


Sacrifices of Children

by CarpeBellum



Series: What We Give [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Curses, M/M, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Underage Smoking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 120,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeBellum/pseuds/CarpeBellum
Summary: In the aftermath of tragedy, Draco finds his loyalty to the Dark Lord wavering. When Harry Potter confronts him for diverting attention away from Dumbledore's Army, the two become unlikely allies. With society on the brink of war, battle lines are being draw, even within the walls of Hogwarts and Draco is realizing that no one can be trusted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and gore. Harsh language and depictions of panic attacks as well as force marriages/betrothal of children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of violence, graphic descriptions of blood and panic attacks.
> 
> Beta'd by @erwintellsdadjokes and @hallgallonhomo on tumblr

“Oi, Malfoy!” someone yelled at Draco, followed by the rush of hurried, loud feet within the hallway. 

Shit.

“Malfoy!” 

Draco had that voice deeply ingrained into his memory. Walk faster. Maybe he will go away. 

“I know you can hear me!”

Of course he won't, genius. 

Draco turned into the direction of the hurried steps that belonged to the annoyance. “What do you want, Potter?” he sneered loudly, while taking notice of the annoying lack of effect it had on the boy in front of him. Potter hurried to catch up with him, his breath quickening. The students within the hall didn't even glance at the pair, who were usually this cordial to each other.  
    
“I need to talk to you,” Potter hushed, leaning in against the passing students within the hall. 

“And why would I ever talk to the likes of you?” Draco responded to the absurd request. 

Potter leaned into Draco’s space, seeming determined to have a private moment. "It's important, Malfoy.” 

“And I am sure to someone like you, anything seems to be worth your time, but, unfortunately for you, my time is not worth this conversation,” Draco said smoothly, enjoying the effect his remarks had on the boy in front of him, who clenched his jaw in aggravation. 

The students within the halls began to thin as students hurried to their classes. Potter, being unpredictable for a change, actually attempted to calm himself by breathing in one deep breath with minimal eyeroll. Draco took this as a cue to further instigate with, “I can assure you, anything you have to say to me would only be worth my time if I was taking a shit while we conversed,”  he finished. Draco turned to walk to his class while Potter began to walk beside him, mumbling something under his breath about blond gits. Draco politely assumed Potter was talking about someone else. 

“I can assure you,” Potter began, “that this is very important-”

“And why would I care if you think something is of any importance?” Draco calmly interrupted, stopping the pair. “Do excuse me, Potter, I have somewhere to be. Which, when you think about it, anywhere is better than here. Enjoyed our little chat,” Draco turned and walked confidently away has the rest of the students still in the halls weaved around him. 

“Malfoy, listen-” Potter followed, to Draco’s growing agitation.

“I know you enjoy our spats as much as the next eavesdropping twat-" Draco snapped at the students who were enjoying the show- "but truly, Potter, do I need to insult you on your choice of friends or on your recent temper lately before you take a hint?” Draco snapped at the following boy, his amusement turning into anger. Potter, much to Draco's dismay, showed no signs of giving up.

“Mal-”

“Oh, I know,” Draco interrupted turning to the boy hurrying behind him “how about we skip the usual insults and I just insult you on your pathetic excuse for a family?”

“Malfoy. Shut. Up.” Potter growled.

“I’ll do something even better, as a contest to our friendship, Potter,” Draco then turned and made his way to his class, counting on Potter’s temper to keep him from following him. It was not long before Draco heard determined footsteps behind him, then quicker, more rushed steps, before he was roughly stopped by Potter with a strong grip on his arm.     

“You know about what happens in the Room of Requirement,” the boy growled quietly, turning Draco to face him.  

Fuck. 

Draco’s heart turned heavy in his chest and dropped into his stomach. A cold sweat broke along his back. The usual noise of the students within the large hall faded away until there was just himself. Draco could feel his heart beat in his figure tips as he clenched his fist tightly. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Draco began, moving threateningly close to Potter, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, “but even if I did, I would have enough brains to not mention it in a hallway where any other students late for their class can overhear.” 

“But-”

“I would be more discreet about any and all matters having to with this certain subject, I would also take a gift when I am given one without question or needless scramble,” Draco growled, making their conversation seem like a heated argument to the outside eye. To see the two of them fighting in the halls was a regular occurrence, and would not be too largely noticed by the passing students. To see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy simply having a conversation in between classes would be...shocking to the rest of the student body. The last thing Draco needed was to be seem as out of ordinary by anyone at this time.

“Now, Potter, I must be leaving,” Draco turned pointedly away.

“No!” Potter gripped Draco's arm to roughly pull him closer. “Why haven’t you told Umbridge yet? You’ve known for weeks now!” 

Draco could feel his ears warm and his stomach turn at the casualness of Potter's accusation, anyone, student or professor, could overhear and ruin what advantage Draco has gained with ease. His temper snapped in fear with- “Actually, I have known the entire time, and if I wanted to, I could have all of your little army carving lines into their bodies until there’s not a single inch of them unscarred!” Draco snapped. 

“Then why haven’t you?” Potter challenged, tightening his grip on Draco’s bicep. Draco shoved Potter into the wall by the front of his shirt with both of his fist. Potter grasped at the fists at his collar, his back knocked against the bricks of the hall, his bag and its contents strewn across the floor. 

“Potter, listen to me very carefully, do not say a word,” Draco threateningly hushed. “I will let go of you, you will walk away, am I perfectly clear?” Frustration radiated from him as he clenched his teeth. Potter glared defiantly at the taller boy. Draco could always cause Potter to act on his temper, with his taunts and insults. Draco knew how to push Potter into any situation; with the right taunts, Potter can be malleable through his temper. Draco also knew how far Potter's temper can drive him, because his temper, his anger, drives his determination. 

There was no point in trying to deny Potter's accusation, Potter could force Draco's hand in this with ease. That was for sure. Potter was too determined to get answers, Potter needed to be controlled. 

Potter squirmed under Draco's grip, uncomfortable against the wall of the hall. The two boys stared at each other, each waiting to make their move. 

"Malfoy-" 

"Shut up, I'm thinking," was Draco's response to the complaint. Potter shut his mouth as Draco thought about the consequences of this new revelation. 

“Potter…not here, anyone can walk by and then we would both be fucked. I’ll contact you later and we can talk then...alone! Okay?” Draco negotiated, softening his tone and his grip. The look in Potter’s eyes flashed with anger, before settling into a resolved, cold understanding. Draco’s only warning was a slight nod from Potter, before he was shoved away. 

“Fine,” Potter jabbed at Draco, before squaring his shoulders and moving to his bookbag on the floor. Draco watched dumbly as Potter finished calmly picked up his things, surprised that this actually worked. Potter straightened from his position on the floor, then turned and looked at Draco, who was still staring. Potter nodded and Draco turned away from his cold look and hurried away, his breath quickening. He walked quickly through the bricked halls of the school, late for his next class. He turned the corner and could swear he felt eyes ranking his back as footsteps behind him became loud. 

Draco turned, his heart pounding in his chest, but no one was there. There was no Dark Lord, no Father, and no Potter making more of a tangled mess then there already was. 

Draco took a slow breath in, calming himself down. No one had overheard them, he was safe. For now. 

Turning back to continue his walk to charms, Draco made his way down the hallways of his school. The halls were quiet, as most of the students were in class and those who were running late left Draco alone to his thoughts. 

Potter as of late had been less and less predictable. Usually he can make the more reasonable decision, if he is not being instigated. However, Potter might have been so intrigued with Draco's move that he did not mind drawing the attention of every student in Hogwarts. Paranoia at Potter's rash behavior clawed at Draco's back. What was stopping Potter from stopping Draco in the halls again, demanding answers that Draco didn't know? Drawing the attention of anyone, everyone, to the fact that Draco is a traitor. With that in mind, Draco turned down a hall and began to take the longest and least predictable path possible to Charms. At the very least, he would have a chance to think.  
    
Draco had quite the predicament on his hands. Potter was aware of his knowledge about his little army. Not only that, but Potter was confident enough not only to confront Draco about it, but also to tell Draco the location of these training sessions, something Potter would only do if he was absolutely sure Draco knew all of the information beforehand. This could only mean that Potter knew Draco had been sitting on the information and had not used this information for his own gain. There was no point in Draco even trying to deny Potter’s accusations.  

How did Potter know? He was careful, he was always careful, his status depended on it. He knew his entrance into the Frog-Lady’s graces were absolutely necessary when he first realized the Ministry had moved to take control over Hogwarts. This was a pathetic attempt to remain in  control of the people, with Potter turning up with a dead student in the middle of the Quidditch Field screaming Voldemort, and Dumbledore's recent mysterious disappearances, unrest was common.

Draco felt a chill go down his spine before settling in his chest. He was there when Potter returned with Cedric, he remembers the screams and tears Potter released so publicly over the Hufflepuff. Draco recalled his own cold, paralyzing fear at his first sight of death. The sorrow Potter had shown was so raw, so unconditional, that Draco did not stop shaking until deep into the night. 

Harry Potter was right. The Dark Lord did return that night, and left a wake of misery in his own celebration that continued- 

Draco couldn't breathe. He couldn't walk. A small girl, a child even in the eyes of Draco, looking into him and begging for life as she watched her family struggle to fight against ropes held by magic- 

Her mother hanging by her neck, her eyes lifeless and large, seeing nothing-

Her father, too stocked to move, eyes already glassy-

Draco's hands were shaking, his breathe stuck under the pressure of his chest, his heart straining to beat, his vision blurred, dark at the edges- 

He just wanted it all to stop.

He would make it stop. 

Draco turned his thoughts away from the unthinkable, shutting them down and slipping into a distant place where he was untouchable, even to his own memories. 

Draco turned his focus to Potter and the problem he proposed. What Draco truly did not understand, was Potter’s undying resilience in the face of tragedy. Perhaps, Draco realized as he resumed his walk to class, that was the reason Draco underestimated Potter. True, Potter’s temper snapped more easily than in the past, but he was more observant than ever. 

Well shit, Draco thought. Potter must have been aware of Draco’s knowledge of the army for a least a couple of weeks now, but he did nothing to change the army’s tactics at all. Which means, Potter wanted to see how dedicated to his secret Draco was. Potter could easily know that Draco has been covering for Dumbledore's Army since they first started meeting, making the rest of Umbridge’s minions run around in circles. Potter just manipulated Draco into playing his entire hand, and by simply doing nothing but observing.

Obviously I’ve underestimated Potter, that or he is just simply stupid.

It was a bold move, Draco had to admit, giving your enemy all of the power just to see how they play. It was a smart move.

Draco had to make a decision: what in the fuck was he going to tell Potter? The truth? Could Potter be trusted? He and Potter had always had a relationship of extremes; would Potter feel some odd sort of nostalgia and sympathize with Draco’s cause?

He was confident that Potter would keep his secret, if for nothing else that Potter had almost no one to tell that could incriminate Draco or challenge his status. Of course, it would still be a huge pain in his ass if Potter had told his shadows. This was less predictable; Potter was inseparable from Granger and Weasley, but lately he had been more withdrawn. Draco was confident he could persuade Potter not to tell their now shared secret if Draco just managed to talk to the boy. 

Draco finally arrived to the door in which Charms were held. He paused at the door, hand on the handle, listening in for an opportunity to enter unnoticed as possible. He waited until he heard Flitwick begin having students practice the charm for the day and slipped into the class with ease. He took his normal seat in the back of the large room, nodding at Professor Flitwick who was still at the front of the classroom. 

Draco was grateful for the lack of other Slytherin students in this class, the other Slytherin students that were in the class kept to themselves, which, at times like these, made Draco grateful for the quite moment. Draco took notice of the charm being reviewed for O.W.Ls, a simple ignition charm they learned in first year. A cauldron containing a small bundle of easily flammable dried grass was on Draco's desk in the back. Draco began to hurriedly take out his notes for the class, trying to appear productive. 

“Mr. Malfoy…Malfoy?” Flitwick was standing in front of Draco's desk, having notice Draco's tardiness. Draco paused, unsure if he was about to be scowled. 

“Yes Professor?”

“The Fire-Making Charm? We are reviewing it for our O.W.Ls?” the man further included. 

Blink, “...yes?”

“Have you been able to properly conjure the charm?” Professor Flitwick gently prodded with patience that made Draco envious.

Draco turned to his cauldron, looking for his wand for an embarrassing amount of time before finding it in his robes, Flitwick remaining patience the whole time. Draco found his wand, “Incendio,” he spelled. The contents of his cauldron lit with ease. He turned to his Professor who was observing calmly. 

“Well, done,” the Professor praised, "you may now begin on reviewing your notes for the next exam." 

“Thank you Professor,” Draco nodded, pulling out his textbook and parchment to take notes. 

Professor Flitwick moved on to the next student and Draco was left with his thoughts once again. He attempted to seem productive against his hurried thoughts. Draco had to make a decision soon, in order to take action. Potter could, most likely, be trusted. Draco knew Potter, maybe not as friends, but Draco had always observed Potter from afar, he was confident in his knowledge of Potter.

Plus, having an ally would be...nice. Having someone to confide in, even if it was simply a share of a common secret, would lessen the burden on Draco's shoulders. Having someone to talk to, someone without an ulterior motive, someone that Draco didn't have to constantly track and be three steps ahead. The experience of having a possible friendly ally would make Draco's life seem less lonely. Draco needed that. Badly.

Parkinson goes silent at random times of the day, closing off and just staring at nothing at all. Draco couldn't burden her with anything, not with the tragedy that happened over the summer. Goyle and Crabb were not to be trusted, even if they were loyal to Draco, they have their own families. Even then, neither of them could understand the pressure Draco was under, both from families with different status than him. Nott could relate, but Draco wouldn't trust him, he was too hard to read. Flint was too boisterous, he and his family were eager to get ahead. Paranoia clawed at Draco constantly. 

There was no possible way Draco could ever confide in a fellow Slytherin student, even if they would be the ones to most understand. No, they had their own families to serve and protect. Draco knew, without a doubt, that their acquaintanceship could only go so far. It was an understanding throughout most of the house. Please, don’t give me any information I can use against you, because then I would have to. 

Potter would make a good ally. Draco could trust him. 

Draco now had a course of action, thankfully. He would have to tell Potter some version of the truth, but not enough to have the boy pity him. Potter would have to see him as an equal, not as someone to save. Merlin knows Potter didn't need someone else to be a savor to, Potter needed an equal. Draco could be his equal. Class ended, Draco was the first out of the door, acting as normal as possible, as if he was not thinking of making nice with the Dark Lord’s most dangerous enemy. 

Draco continued down the hall, keeping to the edge while other students milled around him, lowering their eyes and quieting their voices. There was a time when Draco would appreciate the authority given to him, but now he knows that such authority equals unwanted attention. He plays the part well, he knows, but the constant attention sends chills down his spine and makes everything sharp. 

Draco, for simple good measure, snaps at the younger students to hurry to class. Even the older students stay clear of him, knowing he has the ear of Umbridge and as Prefect, he could hold his own. Draco has been known to cause students to get detention, though, he does his best to avoid putting any student through the horrid abuse Umbridge calls discipline. Draco has never put anyone younger than himself in detention, they are already scared enough as is. He really only puts Gryffindors into detention, who seem, as a whole, to not approve of Draco's authority. This made Draco more enemies than not. Stupid. 

Draco walks his usual path to the large greenhouse that is the classroom of  Herbology. Draco always takes the door closes to Charms and walks around the building outside instead of walking through the corridor, the walk is peaceful and Draco can be alone, without any roles to play. The idea of being truly unobserved for just a few moments is worth having a predictable schedule to the outside eye.     

Draco is met with the warm smell of grass, companied by a pleasant breeze the second he steps outside. Clouds engulf the sky with bright white, providing a plain backdrop to rest of the world, making the landscape look overtly bright with deep greens, similar to the color of the furniture in the Manor's. The contrasting greens play against each other; the lightness of the grass and the dark greens of the forest. The lake looks dark blue now, almost black, similar to the fountain water in the gardens at night when Draco would look at out his bedroom window which looked out onto the Manor's expansive gardens. 

Draco allows his mind to drift back to a distant memory, letting his guard down, comfortable in the privacy of his walk. He thought back to a time when his home was not a prison, a time before the Dark Lord entered his life, a time when his home was still a home. The warmth provided as Draco lounged in front of the fireplace, reading while his parents sat in their respected chairs, drinking wine and discussing this and that. The warm breeze that would past during a summertime breakfast out in the garden. Mother and Father listening to him talk on and on about whatever he had to say, nodding and hardly hiding their amusement at their son. 

Draco continued his walk around the base of the castle, not meeting anyone else on his lengthy route as he walks down towards Herbology. The world is quiet, even if only for a couple moments. 

Draco entered the greenhouse, weaving around the other students who arrived before him. He takes his usual seat that was usually reserved for him by Zabini. Zabini, the perfect representation of tall, dark, and handsome, was the only other Slytherin in his Herbology class, which made their suffering mutual. Potter was also in this class, but, luckily, he paid Draco no mind, at least, not more than usual. A sly, snippy remark or five might pass Potter's lips, but Draco retorts back in his usual manner.

If any other Slytherins were in the class, Draco would be more inclined to start a pissing contest. Thankfully, Zabini was a quiet person, and preferred conversation over public confrontation, so Draco did not feel the need to instigate a fight with Potter. However, that did not mean Draco refuses to rise to the bait, as Potter is teasing with his overly stupid remarks. 

The class continued as normal with Professor Sprout instructing the students to begin creating a diagram for their own planter boxes. Draco begins to work on his, sketching with a piece of charcoal on a piece of parchment, and the classroom grows increasingly quiet as the students around him follow suit. Draco allowed his mind to concentrate solely on the task at hand, the diagram began to take shape as Draco planed which plants should go where. 

 The class ended too soon and Draco was once again forced to return to the world. He walked with Zabini out of the greenhouse to the castle in their expected silence. 

The students all followed the same path up to the castle for dinner, the rest of their peers chatting and laughing warmly against the chilled air of dust. The sky had dipped into a deep blue, making the grass look black. Draco walked his usual pace, but, as Zabini began to fall behind, Draco slowed his pace to match his fellow Slytherin’s. Draco walked in step with Zabini up the path, before glancing over, catching Zabini’s eye, asking for permission. Zabini nodded, allowing Draco to give him this small comfort. The two of them fell behind the rest of the students, allowing them a quiet moment in the almost dark.  

The two boys enjoyed the simple act of walking without any roles to play, not saying anything, using the setting sun and the deep blues to hide behind. This had become a weekly routine, one which Draco enjoyed, however pathetic it may be. Zabini had yet to converse with any of the other students for more than a couple of minutes since returning to Hogwarts from the summer break. 

“Have you done the essay for Charms?” Zabini breached their usual silence. 

Draco tried to hind his surprise with a simple, “Of course.” This was the first time the either of them had attempted at conversation during these walks; if Zabini wanted to talk, he would.  
   
This was how most of the conversations had gone with Zabini as of late. Draco did his best to allow him to talk as little as possible, assuming the dark skinned student was trying to handle the rise of the Dark Lord and how this affect him and his mother as best he can. Zabini was in a very unique position, his only friends were children of Death Eaters, however, his mother was only recently introduced to the Malfoy's social circle four years ago by her late husband. The shift in social atmosphere had changed since then, as well as the treatment of the Zabinis by their "friends." 

The two of them were the last to walk up the pathway and through the large double doors that lead into the main hallway and further into the Great Hall. They heard her before they saw her. A small girl, curled at the foot of the large stairs that branch off from the main hallway, weeping in pain. She was nursing a bloody hand wrapped sloppily in a rag. 

Draco heart leaped in his chest as his mind is gripped by memories. 

He sees a small girl, bloody, begging, screaming, incoherent, reaching for her mother's feet, hanging by an invisible rope- 

Draco gasped for a breath just out of reach, feeling the stillness next to him. 

Draco tried to step in between Zabini and the sight of the girl, a feeble attempt, but Zabini had already followed the sound to the grueling sight of the girl. 

Zabini stopped, visibly losing the breath from his lungs at the sight, Draco could see the color drain from Zabini's face. Zabini went still, not breathing. 

The girl stopped her weeping, Draco could feel her eyes on the back of his neck, the silence stops being a comfort in this moment as everyone stopped breathing. 

Zabini stared, shaking. Any feelings Zabini had been pushing away flood to him, shoving their way up and out. 

“Zabini-" Draco comforted, Zabini was harshly gasping for breath, shaking violently, "Blaise…go to the restroom and get yourself together,” Draco placed his hands on the shoulders of the shaking boy, grounding him. 

“But...,” Zabini sobbed. His shoulders were visibly shaking now, too much for the boy, he was gasping for breath in between harsh sobs that shook his entire frame. 

“Listen to me, you need to dry your face and go to dinner, okay? Can you do that for me? I can help her, I can, but you need to cover for me, okay?” Draco took Zabini’s face in his hands. Brown eyes met grey, panic met calm. 

“Do it for the girl, you can help her, you can do something about this,” Draco continued, “the girl needs help - help me help her,” Draco finished. If Zabini knew he was being manipulated, he didn't care, he was too numb, he allowed himself to be malleable to Draco's orders. Blaise nodded, turning away from Draco's touch, hurrying to the Great Hall to make excuses for Draco. 

Draco watched Zabini as he hurried down the hall before turning back to the girl, who was still weeping against the pain. Draco, knowing his reputation, half thought about leaving her, he couldn't have whispers about him around the castle. The sound of a weeping child violated him again, turning his stomach painfully.

With that in mind, Draco slowly walked to the girl before squatting in front of her. She was dressed in muggle jeans that Draco sees other students wearing and a simple sweater. Her brown hair was loose in a long braid, her glassy brown eyes glared at Draco with almost an animalistic fury. 

“What’s your name?” he spoke gently to her, he kept his body language neutral, as to not scare her. 

The girl stayed silent, wide eyes looked up at him, he waited. 

“What do you care?” the bitterness poured out of her tiny voice. 

“How many lines?” he asked, ignoring the gab.

“Sixty,” the girl answered.

“I need to see them. Will you be okay with that?” Draco gently asked.

The girl gripped the wound tighter, still glaring at Draco, she considered his help, she also considered telling him to fuck off. Draco waited, wanting to be an understanding person, but he was only half invested in this situation as is, having shock drive his earlier actions. Draco's knees began to twinge uncomfortably at the position, and Draco thought about leaving the girl to deal with her wound herself. She couldn't be younger than a second year, she could probably heal herself if she stopped crying for five minutes. Draco was about to stand whenever the girl nodded and lifted her right hand for Draco's inspection.

Draco removed the rag gently, he broke out in a cold sweat as the smell of blood invaded his senses even before he finished unwrapping the bloody rag. He was taken back to a night of blood and screams, his sweat cold on his neck. Draco finished removing the rag with a short gasp. This girl was small, making sixty lines seem like eighty. The lines had repeated over, over, over so many times that the words were indescribable. The wound being a singular, large carved of skin, which blood still easily seeped from. Blood poured out of the large wound, dripping onto the floor. Dripping from a hanging mother's body, onto a screaming child-  
   
“Can I fix this?” Draco asked gently against the screaming of memories inside his head, loosening his grip on the tiny hand. 

The girl gives her permission. Draco pulled his wand from his bag at his side, “Tergeo,” Draco began, clearing any dried blood from the seeping wound. 

“Vulnera Sanentur,” Draco continued, ignoring the sound of the girl hissing between her teeth. The blood returned to the wound, while the skin loosely knitted itself together. Her skin was together enough to stop the bleeding, but that was all.

“You need to go to Madam Pomphrey as soon as possible, she can help with the scarring,” Draco ordered, he continued with, “why didn’t you go see her earlier?”     
                   
“I…don't want to bother her, Umbridge says there is no lesson if she heals us right after detention,” was the answer.

Draco nodded, feeling a sick twist. Draco transfigured a bandage out of parchment to cover the sensitive skin. She gasped through the pain as Draco wrapped her hand with practice.  He reached into his front pocket, pulling out a handkerchief for her. She accepted the offering, wiping her tear-stained face. 

“What did you do to make her so angry?” Draco asked, still wrapping her hand. 

“I called her a stupid frog-faced bitch,” was the answer.

Draco froze, his hands frozen mid-activity while he processes the information, not quite sure if he heard right. “...Well, that would do it,” was all Draco can say to her. The girl shrugged, Draco's curiosity got the better of him, “is there a reason why you called Umbridge a frog-faced bitch?” Draco quipped. 

“Do I really need a reason?” asked the girl.

Draco allowed laughter to escape from him, letting his guard down with- ”no, definitely not.”  
   
The pair sat in silence as Draco finished bandaging the abuse.

“Can I asked you a question?” the girl spoke up.

“You already did,” Draco said with a smile.

The girl almost lost her eyes while rolling them at Draco’s stupidity. Draco could feel his smile grow until the whites of his teeth showed. Giddiness bloomed in his chest, this was the first time in a long time that he had honestly enjoyed himself. He does his best to hide it. 

"Why are you helping me?" asked the girl. 

“Do I really need a reason?” Draco played back on the earlier response, finishing up the bandage. The girl remained quiet after that, her chain lowering to rest on her knees. Draco watched as the girl flexed her hand against the bandage, testing the stretched skin underneath. He should leave, he has done what he needs to do, but he couldn't talk himself into leaving. He was comfortable here with this small stranger. 

Draco does his best to be graceful, but, being so wiry, he does not succeed, but he took the space next to the young, spunky girl. He allowed his knees to bend comfortably while wrapping his arms loosely around them to clasp his hands together, letting his knees drop against his arms. He tried to ignore the voice in the back of his mind, don't trust her, stupid, you don't even know her. What harm could come from talking? Let alone a small girl, who no one would believe if she did tell, right? Surely, no harm would come to Draco if he just talks to the girl. 

“Besides,” Draco continued awkwardly, “you did call Umbridge a frog faced-bitch. Anyone would be nice to you after that.” 

The girl gawked beside him, Draco tried not to cringe at his own forwardness, stupid. 

          “What house are you in?” Draco asked, trying to talk about literally anything else.

"I didn't tell you my name, what makes you think I'm going to tell you what house I'm in?" replied the girl, pointing out the obvious. 

Draco's mouth quirked into a smirk. He was surprise at how much he is enjoying this, this playful conversing without weaving in and out of subtle threats and double meanings. He could do with more of this. But he knew that in his world, he was not able to enjoy this for too long, he was not allowed to make friends. One could only be distracted for so long.

“Well then, Mystery Girl from a Mystery House, I suggest you try not to aggravate Umbridge anytime soon; no matter how entertaining it may be,” the time was up for Draco, time to return to his world. 

The girl's lips lifted into a smile, and she gave a small nod. Gathering himself, Draco rose and mentioned that she was welcome to follow, she rose and the two unlikely pair made their way to the Great Hall.

“So I take it you don’t like Umbridge very much?” inquired Draco, clinging to what was left of the conversation before they separate at dinner.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” quipped the girl. Draco was starting to like her.

“That still doesn’t seem like a decent reason to poke the dragon,” was the older boy’s reply.

The girl shrugged, "the look on her face was worth the detention," was the reply. Draco nodded, understanding the feeling. 

The two of them walk in comfortable silence, before they get to the Great Hall the girl tried to give Draco back his handkerchief, "don't worry about it, I have more," was his reply. 

The unlikely pair entered the Great Hall and went on their separate ways, not a word spoken.

Draco walked with confidence to the Slytherin table, joining his large social circle with ease. Zabini had saved him a seat on his left, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were also there.   
   
Draco sat with Blaise on this left, and Crabbe on his right, with his back to the wall. This gave him a perfect sight of the Gryffindor table, and Potter.  
   
Crabbe and Goyle talked across the table about a topic that Draco didn't bother to follow. Nott was frowning over a complicated Potions Theory book that Draco had read last month and didn't understand, so he naturally recommended the series. 

Parkinson sat next to Nott, directly across from Draco. She wasn't touching the food on her plate, simply staring into nothing, as if trying to slip into nothingness herself. Draco tried to catch her eye, but Pansy stayed still, almost looking through Draco. Draco reached out, he touch her translucent hand to bring her attention forward. "Try the lamb, it's your favorite," Draco urged. Pansy followed Draco's request wordlessly, not even bothering to put up the effort to reply. 

Draco followed Pansy's movement while he ate his dinner, making sure she wasn't just moving the food around on her plate for appearances. Everyone continued with their dinner, wrapped in their own worries. Blaise must have felt confident in this fact “I don’t think I can handle much more of this,” he whispered to Draco. Giving the blonde a chance to ignore him. A way out, if Draco needed it. The words only traveled between the two, a private conversation. 

This was the first real confrontation Draco was faced with the subject. He could not offer real support, Blaise must of known that, but Draco could give Blaise his understanding. This did not come at a price.  
     
“You have always been more capable than you think you are,” Draco finally responded, ignoring his instincts. Carefully being vague, but doing his best to offer what little support he can. He continued with, “My mother always says, ‘You will conquer what you have to,’ Blaise, you will get through this because you have to,” Draco finished.

“Do I, though?” Blaise asked, the meaning clear. 

He understood exactly what Blaise was toying with. Draco remained silent, turning to Blaise, facing him, facing his own past self. He could not allow Blaise, his friend, to continue down this train of thought. Draco, he should, he could, help him. But at what risk? 

“You can handle this,” Draco offered lamely. Knowing, deep in his diaphragm, that he would have to decide a course of action. Knowing that Draco did not actually provide any comfort for the stricken boy.  
The two Slytherins continued eating, Blaise remained stonily silent after Draco’s small effort at comfort. The rest of their circle continued with their conversation, allowing them privacy.  
       
Dinner was a lamb stew with bread, delicious, but not a delicacy. Draco allowed the conversation to continue without him, allowed his eyes to drift across the dining hall, past the ornate windows that led to the outdoors, his eyes fell on a dark skinned boy with unruly hair and green eyes. 

Potter was sitting in between Longbottom and Weasley. Granger sat across from Weasley, giving Potter the perfect window to see the Slytherin. Potter enjoyed his stew, while Granger talked with Weasley about something or another. Longbottom was reading a large textbook, which, from his distance, Draco could guess the book was over Longbottom’s favorite subject; Herbology. Nobody was paying Potter any mind, nobody was paying Draco any mind, now was the time to make a move.         

Draco continued to watch Potter, keeping an eye out for any wandering eyes from his social circle, but everyone was in conversation, or minding only themselves. Potter finally looked up from his stew, making eye contact with Draco. Draco gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, before shifting his eyes to the exit of the Great Hall and returning his eyes to Potter’s. Potter nodded in understanding. 

Draco broke eye contact to look down at his meal. He continued eating for a while before excusing himself. Draco walked out of the room and into the hall, praying that Potter waited before following him out.

Draco continued to walk to the lavatory, slowing his pace to ensure Potter could follow discreetly. Once he heard the recognizable footsteps behind him, quickened his pace to the boy’s restroom. Draco checked the large lavatory to see if he had an audience, but, just has he had expected, everyone was still enjoying their dinner. 

After Potter entered, Draco motioned for him to remain quiet as Draco placed an Imperturbable Charm on the door. Draco tried to ignore the shaking of his hands, he did his best to appear confident and in control, not as if this very conversation could cost him and his family their lives. 

“We can talk freely now, but we only have a few moments,” Draco began, he walked toward the large sinks in the middle of the room, if for anything but for something to do, “anyone could try to come in here and notice the charm.”

“Then why are you trying to talk about this now?” challenged Potter, following Draco.  

“Have you mentioned this to anyone else?” was Draco’s calm response. Draco allowed Potter to see him in a casual pose, leaning against the sink and placing his hands on the sink behind him. In order for his relationship with Potter to change, Potter’s image of Draco had to change.         
    
“Would it have mattered if I did?” was Potter’s answer. Potter stood across from Draco, hands at his sides, in a neutral pose. This was good, Draco was expecting to have to deal with a Potter on the defense, but Potter had surprised him once again. 

Draco continued his relaxed, casual pose. He was doing his best to make Potter feel at ease. “Potter, I need to know, please don’t make this difficult,” Draco begged, keeping his hands on the sink behind him, gripping the edge in nervousness. He made himself seem more vulnerable that he was, he needed Potter to trust him to some small degree. 

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just... you surprise me that’s all,” Potter stuttered, shuffling his feet and avoiding eye contact with the Slytherin. “No one else knows... I promise,” Potter finished, he looked up at Draco to further his swear.

Draco took the opening, “You do not have to promise me anything, Potter, I trust you.” 

Potter’s eyes widen with the easiness of Draco’s trust, not that Draco had a choice, but Potter was not that inclusive. All of that frustration and temperament that Draco had witnessed earlier today was gone, leaving a softer version of the Gryffindor.        

The two remained in silent for a beat, Draco’s heart was pounding for an indescribable reason, his blood running in his ears. He was nervous, but the conversation was going better than expected. Potter was being reasonable, almost predictable, why was Draco practically shaking with access energy? Draco was suddenly painfully aware that this was the first private moment the two boys have had since Draco can recall, even if the scenery was that of a lavatory, the lighting was what one could, possibly, maybe, call romantic.  

“Can I see you later tonight?” Draco blundered. 

Shit.

The moment Potter reacted to the words Draco realized what his request sounded like, what he had to look like, with his hands gripping the sink behind him and his chest out. His demeanor could easily be taken as flirtatious…actually, if Potter did not mistake this for flirting he was just a clueless idiot who would never find love even if he had the strongest love potion possible forced upon him. Unfortunately, Potter was slightly more intuitive.

You are supposed to gain the trust of Potter, not try to swoon him in the night.

This was not going according to plan. This was so very much against the plan. 

Potter was blushing, he tips of his ears turning an embarrassing shade of red. Draco had to fix this… somehow.

Any ideas are welcomed.

No genius social graces came to mind. 

So… naturally Draco did nothing. Allowing Potter to blush and blunder through this awkward experience alone. “Um… sure. Does the, the um, Room of Requirement sound okay? Around midnight?” Potter blundered. 

Draco moved his hands from the sink to fold in front of him, continuing to press his back against the sink.

“Agreeable,” Draco said. Like a fucking prick.  

“Ok, see you then,” Potter agreed, walking backwards as awkward as humanly possible to the exit.

“Until then,” Draco dismissed. Remaining by the sinks, praying for this moment to be over. 

Potter turned to the exit, but coming to the door, also came upon the Imperturbable Charm. The awkwardness lessen only slightly as Draco walked across the tiles of the room to remove the charm. Potter acknowledge his thanks with an inclination of his head, before leaving the lavatory.

Draco returned to the sinks to wash his hands, the clear water flowing from the facet onto his sweating hands. Draco had to get a hold of himself in reference to Potter. However, this was new to both of the boys, blunders had to be expected, but, Draco was not used to having less than exceptional social skills. His words had always been his greatest weapon. 

After washing, the Slytherin made the walk to his common room. He would see Potter again later tonight, he could achieve his objectives then. The only sound his own footsteps echoing on the tiles of the castle. The school always had an out of world feel whenever there was only one set of footsteps. Thankfully, dinner was still continuing, so Draco made his way in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fandom work, comments would be appreciated :) 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @carpebellum


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief mentions of death and some violence. 
> 
> Beta'd by by @erwintellsdadjokes and @hallgallonhomo on tumblr

Draco waited in the Room of Hidden Things for Potter, trying to think of a plan of how to handle him. The room had transformed itself into a simple one, with a burning fireplace in the center and two comfortable lounge chairs next to each other. A large book on Potions Theory, the same one he had recommended to Nott, lay on the small table with a lamp in between the two chairs. The deep red of the rug clashed with the rustic orange of the chairs, but the room seemed to be more for comfort than style. Draco definitely wasn’t complaining as he leaned comfortably against his chair pillow, an awful shade of purple. He tried his best not to allow his eyes to dip against his tiredness, to sink farther into the hideous pillow, but his thoughts started to wonder in the quiet, forcing him to remember what he desperately wanted to forget.

Cedric, his cold body, being gripped by Potter. Potter…weeping, publicly begging for anyone to believe him. His body curling over his wails as he clenched Cedric's body.

"He's back!" Potter had screamed through sobs that were from his core.

Draco had known what he meant. A cold grip had taken hold of his ribs and squeezed, had spread to his arms and legs until he was numb everywhere. Draco had stayed there, frozen to the spot, watching the intimate moment of Cedric's father mourning his son. The other students moved around him, unnoticed in the background.

Draco had ensured himself a spot close to where the champion was supposed to enter with the help of Crabbe and Goyle and his own biting personality. He had hoped the champion would be Cedric; Draco had even made him a champion pin with his newfound crafting abilities. Cedric would always say hi to Draco in the halls with his charming smile. He would always talk to Draco, thank him for all of his support. He had even listened to Draco when he went on and on about the different strategies Cedric should use when facing his trials in the tournament. That excitement turned into pure dread at the sight of his lifeless body.

Draco felt a hand on his arm, his shoulder, "Draco," came a gentle voice.

"Draco," the grip on his shoulder tightened as he was pulled away. Rising up from under icy water Draco allows himself to be malleable to the gentle hand on his shoulder, leading him through the sea of bodies and tears and shaken children, out of the great hall.

He’s outside, the coolness of the night a sharp contrast against the warm hand steadying him, pulling him above water. There are only two sets of footsteps on the stones, everyone else remaining in the castle for their collective sorrow. The night is dark, no stars or moon to provide light.

Against the blanket of the night, under the warmth of the small light of the lantern above their heads, Draco could make the details of a young, familiar face. Daphne smiled, tears threatening to spill out of her beautiful bright blue eyes that Draco never had noticed before now.

"Hey," she croaked, her face blotchy.

Her voice was warm, kind, and lovely, much like her entire being. Her hand had remained on his shoulder, a kindness. Draco could feel a pressure move from his stomach to behind his throat, his nose and eyes. He had to get away, now, he couldn't let anyone see him like this. He pulled away from Daphne, her kindness, walking away, he tried to slip into the night so that he could grieve in silence, away from anyone and everyone. Draco hurried away from her, farther into the night, but he stayed close enough to touch the castle's walls with an outreached hand, needing support. He didn't hear any footsteps following him. When he couldn't hold the overwhelming feelings any more, he allows himself to sink to the ground onto his knees.

Draco expected sobs, or tears, but none came, only the feeling of a chill. Draco could only stare at the grass and dirt as he waited for the shock to leave him as it had before in the presence of Daphne. He sat up, leaning against the castle as he looked out at nothing.

His Dark Lord had returned and proceeded to kill a young man. What else would the Dark Lord do in the name of power?

Probably anything. Kill a child, a family, anyone who would get in his way. The Dark Lord needed power like some people needed air. The Malfoys would give this to him, would support him on their shoulders even if it meant bending at the knee. Draco had been prepared to do this, prepared to support his lord and receive all of the glory he rightfully deserves…but at what cost? Could Draco truly follow through? Could he kill another simply for power? Could he take power that was taken from others through cruelty? Did he want to?

The nothingness of the night reflected the void growing inside of the small boy. He started to shake, he curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. He didn't know what to do. How could he be expected to follow the man who killed his friend, a person he had admired? Cedric is…was, was kind, charming, smart, he could make anyone laugh and everyone liked him because he was always genuinely himself. He didn't deserve to die. Serving the Dark Lord is what Draco was meant to do, what he has been polished to do, following the Dark Lord is what would bring his family respect beyond all glory.

But perhaps his parents were wrong. 

This revelation made Draco feel dirty to the core. Simply having thoughts against his family, his Lord, was a betrayal worthy of death. A cold grip in his ribs brought tears to his eyes. 

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a body walking towards him. The shape of a girl illuminated by a small blue light, Daphne, of all people. Her hand was outstretched to trace the castle walls with delicate fingers. She walked as if gliding, with the grace of a woman, not simply a girl. Her long blond hair trailed behind her, her eyes bright with a seriousness that Draco couldn't remember ever seeing in her despite knowing the girl for years now.

Draco said nothing as Daphne sat down next to him, not minding if her pale blue cloak got dirty. The blue light above them disappeared into smoke, they were left in the privacy of darkness. Draco could feel her leaning against the castle next to him, her legs out in front of her. She seemed relaxed here, despite the recent tragedy. Draco watched as his eyes adjusted to the darkness as she pulled a packet of muggle smokes out of her pocket.

"My only way of rebellion," she explained, her voice sore, pulling out a cigarette and lighting the tip with a lighter instead of her wand. Draco could see her delicate features as the small flame caused light to dance across her face. She inhaled, drawing the smoke in into her lungs with a slow, experienced drag before releasing the breath. She looked out at nothing, everything covered by darkness.

She turned to Draco, "Now you can cry in front of me and I won't be able to tell anyone," she observed with another drag. A dry laugh escaped from Draco's chest.

Draco allowed himself to be enclosed into comfortable silence as Daphne continued to defy Draco's expectations of her.. He had known Daphne since they were children, never exactly friends, but they had enough forced engagements that they could be called acquaintances outside of also being peers.

"Do you remember that time where you pushed me off of my kiddy broom?" Draco asked, not bothering to look over at her.

Draco could hear the smirk in her voice, "You mean when you tried to tell me that Quidditch wasn't for pretty girls so I kicked your ass?"

"I remember it differently," was Draco's defense.

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Daphne retorted back.

"Yes, I remember a troll wearing a ridiculously pink dress tackling me off of my broom while I was flying," Draco smiled at the memory.

"You were only three feet of off the ground. Just think of the experience as a free Quidditch lesson. I was pretending to be a bludger," Daphne shrugged off, "besides, I did ruin my dress for that tackle, so I think we're even."

"You ruined my broom!" Draco grinned.

As the two blondes grinned at each other, Draco felt the weight leave his chest as he settled into the comfortable silence between the two. Daphne continued to smoke, the smile leaving her lips. 

"You know we're fucked, right?" she asked, only halfway done with her smoke.

The weight that had previously left him slammed into him like a pile of bricks. The knot in his chest tightened as chills clawed at his spine. He knew what she was talking about, he was just thinking about it, but saying the words out loud took a courage Draco didn't have.

"Yeah, I know," Draco whispered despite the thundering of his heart against his ears.

"I'm not going to fight for him, Malfoy, are you?" Daphne asked, apparently not affected by the situation.

Draco didn’t want to, she had to see that, just the idea of serving the man who killed a child twisted his gut…but if this is what he did to Cedric, a boy who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, what would he do to a traitor? To his family?

He would kill them. No, he would do more than that.

His fist curled against his pants, bunching the cloth beneath his hands. Calm rage pooled in his belly; he would not let this happen. He would drown before he let that happen.

But at what cost? He would sacrifice himself, Draco knew this, but could he sacrifice another to protect his parents? He would do anything… but what were his limits?

"I don't know what to do," Draco sobbed. His cries shook his body, his gasps harsh and deep in both despair and surprise at his own tears.

He bowed his head into the crook of his elbow, trying to protect himself against the overwhelming feeling. What could he do? What could his father, or anyone, do?

A warm arm came around Draco's shoulders, embracing him. Draco could smell Daphne's hair as she laid her head against his shoulder, the smoke forgotten.

He cried, weeping into his arms which were wrapped around him, until Daphne pulled Draco into a tight hug that allowed him to sob into her shoulder. He leaned against her, allowing his heart to overfill and his sobs to come as they did.

He didn’t pull away when he was done weeping, enjoying Daphne's embrace. He waited until he was sure he had finished crying before separating from her. His face felt too warm when he pulled away, he was too tired to be embarrassed at his own outburst, but she just looked at him with kind eyes as she rubbed his shoulders. She stopped only to light another smoke with practiced hands.

The young girl took a long, deep drag from her smoke, seeming to enjoy the practice, before offering Draco one from her pack. Draco numbly took one of the cigarettes, holding as he had seen Daphne do as she lit it for him, cupping the tip against the nonexistent wind.

Draco held the smoke against his lips, breathing in the heat into his chest before coughing harshly.

"You have to get used to it," was Daphne's only comment.

Draco couldn't see the point of doing something you have to get used to, but the pair continued to smoke in silence. Draco focused on breathing in the smoke before releasing his breath, he allowed the routine to take hold, calming himself down.

"You can't tell anyone else," Daphne broke their silence. Draco didn't say anything.

"If anyone else finds out that you're wavering, he'll kill you. Then he'll kill your family. Then he'll kill me for knowing about it," she lectured him, outlining the deaths that would be his fault if he so much as breathed another word about this. Draco knew this, of course, his hands started to shake again.

"I know," was all he could say, finishing his smoke before putting it out in the grass and leaving with his new, unexpected ally. 

Draco shifted in the large lounge chair, the warm fire crackling against the wood. He was getting tired, Potter was late, or he was annoyingly early…probably both. Draco sighed, picking up the overly complicated textbook to try to understand the difficult text. Nott had been unsuccessful in understanding the ideas,though Draco couldn't blame him. Most of the book required the knowledge and vocabulary of someone in seventh year, but Nott did propose some other interesting readings which Draco would be sure to look into.

With Umbridge as the Dark Arts professor, his education was becoming limited, so Draco clawed for any scrap of knowledge that could become useful. Whether the subject was potions or magical creatures, ancient ruins or charms, arithmancy or herbology, Draco was determined to strengthen his mind.

The sound of the door opening caused Draco to raise his head to catch Potter's expecting eyes. Potter crossed the room to the fireplace, Draco put his book down and stood up, his manners Mother had hammered into his head allowing nothing less. Potter bunched his robe underneath his arm, looking anywhere but Draco. He was dressed in his over-used blue sleepwear. Potter was all bones, his pants only went down to his calves so that his ankles and bare feet poked out. Draco felt awfully overdressed in his school trousers and button-down shirt, his simple black robe hanging over the back of the chair he had been sitting in.

Silence filled the room, making Draco itch with embarrassment. Potter was just standing there, staring at Draco, which, Draco reasoned, was probably Potter's way of getting back at him for the embarrassment in the lavatory earlier that night.

"Would you like to sit down?" Draco asked, as if entertaining a guest at the Manor, something the Malfoy's haven't done in almost a year.

"Um…yeah, sure," Potter followed the suggestion, sitting in the chair across from Draco's, making Potter seem smaller than he was.

Draco sat in his chair, turning his body towards Potter, his legs crossed, but his upper body relaxed, leaning against the arm of the chair with his elbow. Draco waited for Potter to start the conversation, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Potter sat on the edge of the chair with his hands in his lap, his cloak bunched behind him.

"Did you have any trouble getting here?" Draco asked with painful awkwardness.

"No, you?" Potter responded, shifting in his seat.

"I'm a Prefect, so…" Draco bit his lip as the sentence dropped into a mumble, scratching his nose.

"Oh, yeah, I know," Potter said.

Of course he knows you idiot, you've taken over a hundred house point from him alone! 

"Granger and Weasley are Prefects," Draco tried, wishing for death.

"Yep," was all Potter could offer lamely, nodding slowly.

Yes, Draco, they're Prefects, and you're an idiot.

"I'm sure you have questions," Draco began, praying for Potter to say something, anything productive. He only wanted to answer the questions which were asked, but this conversation made him want to peel his face off.

"Of course I do," was Potter's response, which Draco only responded with a bored look, Potter wasn't going to get any more information than Draco wasn't ready to give.

Potter sighed with a classic roll of his eyes, "Why? Why protect the DA?"

"Students need the knowledge you're teaching them," Draco answered with practiced ease.

Potter stared, “Wow, Malfoy. Was that… a compliment?” Potter looked as surprised as Draco felt, he could feel his blush on his cheeks. Draco looked away, he wasn’t going to say anything. 

After a painful amount of silence, Potter asked, "how long have you known?" He had came prepared. 

"Since you met at the Hog's Head. Really Potter, you’ve only had, what, three meetings? You have to be more careful," Draco showed off.

"How did you find out?"

"I have my ways," Draco wasn't ready to give up all of his secrets. 

"How have you been helping the DA?" Potter wasn't fazed. 

“I’ve been feeding Umbridge the wrong information,"

"What-"

"What can you do to help? Changing the times you meet. Making the times more random would be lovely, actually," Draco concluded. 

Potter sent a glare in his direction, Draco bit his lip, trying to hide his smirk. This was fun.

"Have you told anyone else?" Draco asked, turning back to Potter.

"Told anyone else what?" Potter replied dumbly.

"Don't be an idiot. Your shadows, do they know?" Draco snapped, all humor gone.

Potter crossed his arms dangerously, "I don't see why it matters," he argued.

Draco tried a different approach. Uncrossing his legs, he allowed his elbows to rest against his knees as he leaned forward, "I'm not trying to be difficult, Potter, I just need to know how this information could get out. I need to watch my own back," he confided, allowing his voice and face to soften, appearing vulnerable.  
Potter immediately softened his posture, uncrossing his arms, "Sorry…no, I haven't told anyone," he apologized.

"There's no need to apologize," Draco acknowledged, "I'm sorry I snapped at you," the apology felt strange on his tongue. "Are you going to tell anyone?" Draco asked, knowing the answer.

Potter gave him a look he wasn't used to, unreadable, "I wasn't planning on it," he concluded.

Draco gave a sigh to appear relieved, "Thanks Potter, I didn't mean for you to have to keep things from your friends, this is a relief though, so thank you," Draco gave the thanks genuinely. 

“What about you?” Potter asked. 

Draco didn’t have any idea what he was talking about, “What about me?” he inquired. 

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Potter was being serious. 

Draco laughed, he probably shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. “Potter, who would I tell?” 

“I don’t know, fucking Umbridge? Your friends? Crabbe, Goyle, I know you walk with Blaise in the halls sometimes?” he questioned. 

“No, Merlin no, they can’t be trusted. Not with- not now,” Draco confided. He bit his lip at the almost slip, Potter was unusually easy to talk to, he would have to be more careful. 

“Who do you talk to about this sort of stuff?” investigated Potter.

“No one,” Draco answered in truth. Daphne was there for him in ways no one else was, but Draco knew that her true intentions laid with protecting her sister. Draco didn’t go to her more than absolutely necessary. 

“You don’t have anyone,” stated Potter quietly. 

“No, I don’t have anyone,” Draco reiterated. 

Potter looked at Draco as if relearning him. Draco could feel the stare against his face has he turned to look into the fire, causing a blush to rise to his cheeks. He felt warm, cozy in this simple warmth with simple company. Despite having just gave Potter more information on himself than he ever gives to anyone. 

"What spells are you teaching?" This was stupid, he already had what he needed from Harry; silence. He should just let the situation stay here, safe.

"I thought you had your ways, Malfoy," Potter articulated, a surprising playful smile on his lips.

"These are my ways, Potter," Draco continued the banter, smiling, an unexpected giddiness dancing in his chest. He leaned back in his chair, relaxed. Potter brought his hand to his mouth, trying to hide his smile, Draco assumed. Deep purples and blues covered his hand, the red markings of Umbridge were unmistakable. Draco didn't say anything.

The two shared a smile between them before Potter answered, "We've gone over disarming spells, right now we're practicing the reductor curse and the implement hex."

"Simple, but effective," was Draco's answer. All of these spells would be helpful in an attack. "Where did you get that?" Draco motioned to Potter's abused hand.

Potter's jaw clenched in defiance, he flexed his hand against the attention, "I'm sure you know where," Potter assured.

"I guess the more appropriate question is why?" Draco clarified, then quietly, "let me see."

Potter surprisingly didn't hesitate to allow Draco to see his abuse, the two leaning closer over the arms of their chairs and the small table between them. Draco gently investigated the injury, noting the lines that over lapped each other too much to make out what the words were, he noted how warm Potter was, how strong his hands were.

"Why is beyond me," was Potter’s answer to the punishment inflicted. 

"You probably breathed in her direction wrong," Draco joked, "I can get you a salve that will relieve the bruising and tenderness, it's been too long to try any simple medical spells. I can also give you a potion that could get rid of any scarring, though-" Draco made a motion to Potter's forehead, "you might not be too worried about that."

The bark of laughter Potter let out surprised Draco. Potter had a nice laugh.

"Asshole," Potter laughed.

"I'm worried that it took you this long to figure that one out Potter," Draco smiled back.

"I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt," Potter grinned at Draco, continuing the surprisingly light hearted jest. Draco realized he was still holding Potter's hand in both of his, he let go and leaned away from Potter.

The two shared a new look between them. "We should probably go, it's getting late," he murmured. They rose from their chairs, stretching from sitting too long, their bones tired and warm from the fire.

The two left the room without saying another word. The halls were cold compared to The Room of Hidden Things, no lanterns were lit to provide light or heat. Draco turned to Potter, but couldn't say anything. Something had shifted in their relationship, permanently. The weight of this caused silence on Draco's part. Potter seemed to feel the same. The two stood there, feeling this change between them, saying nothing.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," Potter offered, a small smile on his lips.

"Goodnight, Potter," Draco nodded.

The two left towards their dorms.

\--------------

"Draco, Draco wake up!" 

Gasping, struggling against the ropes that were wrapped around his arms, his neck. They were choking him, stealing the breath from out of his lungs. Snakes. Tightening their grip on him, crushing him. His ribs crack against the pressure, letting the snakes slide into his chest to swallow the heart in him. He thrashed against the tightening coils. 

"Draco!"

Draco woke up with his hands around Blaise's neck. Strong arms were pulling at his torso, Nott was prying at his hands. Draco relaxed his body as he let go of Blaise and then allowed himself to be pulled away from the boy. His legs weren’t working. Draco felt cold sweat against his skin, his heart was beating in his ears, his limbs were heavy.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he croaked, he felt a soreness in his throat that wasn't there when he went to bed. The arms around him loosened, Draco sank to the cold floor, his back against a bed. Goyle moved in front of him, though he was careful to keep his distance, "You okay, mate?" he asked.

Draco nodded, he felt a coil wrap around his lungs and stomach. His head spun, he pressed his hands against the bricks of the floor, focusing on the cool texture as he tried to breath against the claws raking his back in panic. When he trusted himself to speak, "Blaise? Is he okay? Did I-"

"I'm right here," Blaise had sat next to him, his hand moved to his shoulder in reassurance, "I'm fine, really, more surprised than anything." Nott stood behind Blaise, his eyes shifting nervously between the two.

"What-" Draco almost asked.

"You started screaming in your sleep, you lashed out whenever I tried to wake you up," Blaise explained gently.

"I forgot to put the charm up, stupid," Draco thought out loud, still numb from panic.

"Charm? Draco how long has this been happening?" Blaise asked, concern written clearly across his features.

Draco allowed the silence carry his answer. He was still shaking. His arms felt overused and tired, but he couldn't go back to sleep, not now.

"I'm going out," he started as he tried to stand, but his legs felt too weak and soon began to shake. Goyle reached out for him, pulling the weaker, shaken boy up without comment. Draco had found his wand and cloak after a pitiful stumble. He was hurrying towards the door when Blaise had called out, "Draco, you should get some-"

"Oh, let him go," Crabbe had yelled out, he was the only one still in his bed, not bothered by Draco's outburst. Draco hurried out, only hearing Crabbe's "Maybe we will get some fucking sleep," as he tripped out of the door after hauling it open.

Draco left his dorm with an accidental slam, only to be met with the curious faces of the other Slytherin boys who had heard him scream.

"Back to bed," he snapped,but he still felt their eyes on his back as he hurried down the stairs.

He was gasping when he arrived at the lavatory; thankfully he was alone, his footsteps the only sounds besides his gasps. Draco wrapped his cloaked tighter around himself over his sleepwear. His sweat had dried and was now sticky against him, but he still couldn't get warm. Draco pressed his palms against the cool, smooth sink, using the shock of the cold porcelain to ground himself.

He looked like shit. The moonlight that shone through the large windows reflected against the pale tiles of the lavatory, giving Draco’s pale skin a sickly pallor as he looked in the mirror. There were bags under his eyes already turning purple, serving only to emphasize how thin he had gotten. Draco tried to think back to the last night he had gotten more than five hours of sleep, if he was lucky. He couldn't. Panic had taken its grip on him since last summer.

Draco turned on the faucet and he cupped the clear water in his hands, bringing the smooth liquid to his lips. He swallowed the cool liquid, though that did little to ease his harsh throat. When the water wasn’t enough, he leaned down to greedily drink from the steady stream of water itself. 

He gasped against his swallows. His chills had steadied.

"You look like shit, you know that right?"

Draco didn't have to look in the mirror to know the person who smelt like cigarette smoke.

Daphne was leaning against the stalls in a pale blue robe that was tight against her, blond hair in loose braids stacked upon her head. Her cigarette was already lit, the grey bellows of smoke curling around her braids.

"You can't smoke in here," he hated how his voice sounded, as if he had been screaming for hours.

"You can't be here," was her response, unbothered. 

"This is the boy's room," he pointed out as he turned to her and leaned against the sink next to him.

"Yet here I am," she replied, she walked over, handing him a smoke.

Draco lit the smoke with practiced ease, inhaling the warmth into his lungs. The focus of the routine allowed his hands to stop shaking.

"How big of a scene was it?" Draco asked; he needed to know damage control.

"If I'm here, you know how big it was," was her answer. "You forgot to put the charm up?"

"Obviously," Draco claimed.

"That was a stupid mistake," she said calmly.

"Don't lecture me on things I already know," he argued back. 

"Don't make mistakes," was her response.

Draco was too tired to be angry, his shoulders slumped. He couldn't make mistakes, he knew this, he didn't have that privilege. 

"I'll think of something," he pleaded.

Daphne inhaled, "I know you will," exhale.

The two continued their comfortable rare routine.

"I need you to do something," Draco began, he used the moment of privacy to his advantage.

"Why am I not surprised?" the girl replied drily. .

"Because I come to you with all of my problems." .

"Flattery will get you everything. What do you need?"

"Zabini, he's… isolated," Draco explained.

"Yeah no shit, his mom's a whore and he has baggage no one wants to touch," proclaimed Daphne.

"Mrs. Zabini has a better heart than you," Draco barked.

"She has the privilege," Daphne had said factually.

"I'm not here to discuss Mrs. Zabini, I'm worried about Blaise," he contradicted.

"First name biases now?"

Shit. "We've always been on first name biases," he supplied.

"Not anymore," she commanded.

"I know, I know!" he was slipping, he rubbed the back of his head. "That's why I need you," he reasoned.

"People are watching me too, ass," chided Daphne.

"Don't," Draco ordered, "I know you're under pressure, but don't. Your family has a solid hold on their standing and you know it. No one is trying to strip your family of their power, while mine is having to claw back into his good graces like whimpering dogs!" he lectured.

Daphne just stared at him, sending chills down his spine. She was pissed.

"What do you need," she eventually asked with a surprisingly gentle voice, taking a smooth puff. Draco was always amazed at her even temper.

"Blaise-"

"You mean Zabini."

"Zabini," he corrected himself, "he's being isolated. Someone needs to reach out."

"You mean I need to reach out," Daphne corrected.

"I mean he needs someone, I didn't say you."

"He has gotten close to Theodore, hasn't he?" she theorized.

With a roll of his eyes, Draco explained, "You and I both know Theo will separate himself from Zabini soon, he can't be connected to the Zabini family in any way, not with his father being so high up in the ranks.."

"Oh, and I can?" she challenged.

"I don't need to explain your situation," he argued.

"You mean the situation in which I'm a girl?"

"Yes, exactly," he said bluntly..

"I'll think about it," she sighed, smoke leaving her mouth in one last drag. "Are you going to let me know why you left dinner early?" she asked as she put out her cigarette in the sink behind her.

"You'll figure it out eventually," Draco said playfully. He had put out his cigarette and was rinsing out the sink.

"Asshole," she laughed easily, pushing off of the sink where she had been leaning. She made to leave before she turned around. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked kindly.

With a dry laugh he responded, "I have to be, don't I?"

Draco was given a worried look by his friend, but she didn't say anything as she left.

Draco stayed a moment, enjoying d the feeling of calm that Daphne had given before going back to bed.

He remembered the charm this time.

\----------------------

Draco was sitting with Daphne and Theo, the three had been reviewing their notes for Transfiguration. Daphne had several open books, her notebook more scribbles than anything. Her hair was in a loose bun on the top of her head, her neck tie loose, and the top couple of buttons of her uniform were undone. . They were all hunched over stacks of books, class notes from lectures splayed across the largest table in the Common Room; Draco had even skipped dinner to claim that table for his study group before anyone else. Thankfully, Daphne had brought him a piece of toast with a bite already in it.

"Draco, do you have the chapter summaries that you write out for Pansy?" Theo asked, his voice muffled as he remained face down in a stack of books, notes and crumbled pieces of paper littered around him, his hair in disarray. 

"What chapter summaries?" mumbled Daphne, her eyes unseeing has she stared down at the same page of the same book as she had been for the last half hour.

"The chapter summaries he writes out for Pansy," Theo contributed helpfully as he sat unmoving.  
"I have them somewhere Theo." Draco began to rummage through the unorganized stacks of combined notes the three supplied. He found them, neatly stacked together, naturally under everything else on the farthest end of the table that could fit twelve people easily. Draco handed the summaries to Daphne who had her hand outstretched, her eyes staying glued to the parchment in front of her as she dropped the notes lazily on top of Theo’s head. Theo didn't respond.

Draco stretched his shoulders while he popped his sore neck. He had been sitting down too long. While Draco's essay for Charms had been finished early, his exam for Transfiguration had loomed over his head with an evil glee. The three had collectively decided to panic together. Draco didn’t usually wait until the last minute, or the night before, but he had spent the day in Severus’ Potions lab making a large batch of a basic healing salve. He also made a couple of basic healing droughts, just in case. Then, of course, Severus had required him to have tea for the use of his resources. Draco had spent to entire day in the Potions Room, only meeting up with Daphne and Theo after dinner.

They had been studying for hours now in the Common Room, most of the other students having gone to bed hours ago. A couple of groups of students were around the common room. Blaise and Bulstrode were sitting together on the opposite side of the large, well-lit, room. Blaise looked just as tired as the rest of them - he probably wasn't getting much sleep. Draco didn't know Bulstrode enough to make any observations on the girl.

Pansy laid on the couch, taking up the entirety of the furniture with her legs, despite the other students sitting on the floor. No one bothered her, and Draco didn't blame them Pansy had become a viper ready to strike anyone who set her off. Pansy stared at the ceiling, her long black hair fanning out across the cushions. She had been there since before dinner, which she probably skipped because Draco hadn't been there to remind her to eat. She was thinning, her uniform already too big for her frame. 

"She's not your responsibility, you know," Daphne hadn't even looked up to know where Draco's gaze was held.

"Thank you, Daphne, always a help," Draco droned. He wasn’t in the mood for her.

"I'm just saying," she challenged, though her eyes remained on the book in front of her. .

"Don't," was all he could say.

The silence she gave him was an apology. The two went back to their mutual suffering over the textbooks. Draco supplied Daphne with his more legible notes and she went over with him the proper wand motions for the last spells they had learned. Theo remained silent and unmoving.

"I think he's dead," joked Daphne.

Draco offered his help by poking Theo in the face. When they confirmed that their peer had in fact fallen asleep, the two started to pile papers and stack books around him, careful not to disturbed his peaceful sleep.

This continued until they had no more books or papers left, then they moved on to pillows and cushions from around the common room, then collected from the dorms as other study groups started to provide their assistance. Hushed giggles filled the room as more people took notice and began to participate. Theo was soon lost in an artful stack of books, notebooks, paper, pillows and a couple of shoes provided by other students.

Draco took a step back, enjoying the view , everyone working together again. He felt warm in the hushed laughter and giggles.

A small girl in muggle clothing stepped forward and cast an impressive silencing charm around the mountain when the class couldn't keep their laughter to themselves so Theo could keep sleeping. A girl with brown hair and warm light brown skin, the same girl Draco had helped in the corridor. 

His surprise was distracted by a loud thud and the sounds of a girl screeching followed by crashing. He turned to see Pansy running at Bulstrode with a spiteful vengeance, even managing to topple the much larger girl in her rage. Pansy was a fury of fist, slaps and scratches as Bulstrode was forced to the floor. Draco could hear the sound of Pansy's fist from across the room where he stood.

Bulstrode was trying to grab Pansy's fist in feeble attempts, but Pansy was relentless, hitting her with closed fists again and again and again. It wasn’t long before her hands were covered in blood.

Draco snapped out of the shock, pulling out his wand immediately. , "Flipendo!" Pansy was pushed of off Bulstrode by the spell. Draco ran over to the Bulstrode who was still on the floor, but when Pansy lunged at the pair again, "Depulso!" Draco casted. Pansy was pushed away with stronger force, her feet barely on the floor as she hit the wall with a painful gasp. 

"Enough!" Draco shouted with authority he didn't know he had. Pansy rose quickly, out of breath but not out of fight. "Parkinson, stand down!" ordered Draco. Pansy stood against his order, her body tense, ready to lunge into the violence.

"That's enough," Draco glared at the seething girl, his wand ready to retaliate.

"She-" Pansy started.

"I don't care," Draco cut off coolly, his temper coiling in his stomach.

"You're going to take that mudblood's side over mine?!" Pansy barked, tears hot on her face .

"Don't call me that!" Bulstrode screeched from the floor, her face covered in blood from Pansy's abuse. 

Daphne rushed to Pansy, taking her shoulders, "Come on, let's go Pansy," she chided. Daphne and Draco shared a look before Daphne hurried Pansy out of the common room and into the hallway.

Silence cloaked the previous joyful collection of students. "Shows over," snapped Draco, , and the group broke away in silence. Bulstrode stood from the floor, her face bloody and her noise probably broken, but she left the room with a square jaw and strong shoulders.

Blaise moved towards Draco, before catching his glare and following Bulstrode out. "Milly, wait," he called after her. 

Draco took this as his cue to go to bed. He changed in his dorm quietly, Crabbe and Goyle already asleep. The two were thick as thieves; so were Blaise and Bulstrode, apparently.

They were probably on first name bases.

Thankfully, they had found each other. Both were being pushed aside by their friends, or having to take on simple abuse. If only there was a way for them to make friends outside of the Slytherin House. Blaise was known for having a sharp personality, and he also had a notorious black widow for a mother. No one was looking to reach out to him for friendship. Bulstrode was just plain aggressive.

The girl he had helped last week had to be from a Muggle family. He would know her, or of her, if she was from wizards. She was resilient, but probably also the person to be most abused by other Slytherin students. Mystery Girl was too vulnerable for his liking.

If only the other houses could see how vulnerable they were. Perhaps Blaise would pull himself out of his depression, perhaps Bulstrode would be less of a target for abuse, perhaps the small, resilient girl could stop being so strong and be a child.

But how?

Potter.

Potter and his army.

They could take the orphans of the Slytherin House, provide them with friendship and support. Potter would allow Slytherin students, wouldn't he? Of course he would, Potter is a much better man than Draco, he wouldn't make judgements on biases, right? Draco could talk him into allowing a few students, none of the purebloods, or those with families attached to Death Eaters, but others.

Perhaps…

Maybe this could help Potter in his fight against his Lord.

This could be Draco's rebellion, a way to forgive him for his sins, this righteous action. This small action, he could do, he could stand with Potter, if only for a brief moment.

He could do the right thing.

He could he brave. 

Bravery is a terrifying idea.

Blaise entered the room and Draco pulled his curtain back, "Is she-?"

"She's fine," Blaise answered.

"Blaise?" Draco whispered.

"Yeah?"

Vulnerability is a terrifying idea.

"I'm so sorry," he confided.

He thought Blaise wasn't going to accept, how could he blame him? "Me too," Blaise supplied quietly.

Blaise turned to his bed and Draco drew back his bed curtains, ready for this night to be over. Just as he was about to put his charm up, Blaise pulled apart his curtains.

"Where's Theo?" Blaise asked. 

There was loud crash and a string of incoherent curses from the Common Room. 

"Found him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fandom work, comments are more than welcome :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at carpebellum.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by @halfgallonhomo and @erentellsdadjokes on tumblr

Everything being considered, Theo probably didn't do his best on Professor McGonagall's exam. He let both Draco and Daphne know exactly how they were responsible while they left the classroom during switch period, lecturing them both on their shameful acts the night before. 

"I thought we were friends, guys, I can't believe you two would do this to me," he repeated. 

"That's where you made your mistake," Daphne chided as the three walked through the crowded halls on their way to their next class. 

"Excuse me?" Theo asked, not following. 

"Assuming we're friends," explained Daphne with evil glee. Draco tried to hide his smirk, when he couldn't, Theo punched his arm for laughing. 

"Theo!" they heard in the crowded hallway. 

The three turned to see Blaise hurrying to them. Bulstrode was with him, shoving other students out of their way. 

"Hey," was all Blaise could say, out of breath, but still smiling. Theo tensed at the sight of him, Draco wondered how long he had been avoiding Blaise. Bulstrode looked just as uncomfortable as the rest of them. She was also sporting a black eye, but no sign of the claw marks Pansy had left - Draco suspected that Blaise had something to do with that. 

Draco didn't know what to do, and with a shared look from Daphne, he saw that neither did she. The alliance with the Zabini's was unclear. Draco could suppose that Mrs. Zabini would be wise to stay away from connections with Death Eaters, but this had thrown her and her son out of their social circle. Everyone was giving Blaise the cold shoulder in response, waiting to see how this played out. 

Theo was most effected, his loyalty of his friendship of Blaise for years now collided with his obedience for his father. Draco knew Mr. Nott to be an unforgiving man, if he was being polite. If he wasn't, Mr. Nott was horrible. Draco had no knowledge of Theo's mother's death, but he wouldn't have been surprised if abuse turned into murder. Theo looked at Draco, begging for guidance. Draco had no pieces of wisdom to give to him.

Blaise stood there, a nervous smile on his lips. "Can I talk to you, Theo?" he asked, leaning in for privacy, shuffling his feet. He probably wanted to ask why Theo never talked to him outside of classes, or never sat next to him for dinner, or why he didn't ask him to study together last night. 

Theo stood there, stepping back to separate himself from Blaise. "Not now, Zabini, I'll see you in class," he dismissed, the cracks in his facade showing. 

"Zabini? Theo, what's going on?" Blaise inquired, reaching for Theo with a nervous arm. When Theo pulled his hand back as if he had been burned, Blaise looked as if his friend had just gutted him. 

"Nothing's going on, I just don't want to talk to you," Theo supplied. Even though his words were harsh, Theo's face told a different story. 

"Theo, what did I do?" Blaise begged loudly, other students were starting to notice. 

Theo was looking lost, he motioned to Draco, a signal for help. Draco moved to step in, wanting to deescalate the situation before a Professor came. 

"He doesn't have to explain himself to the likes of you," Crabbe supplied, striding over and using his size for intimidation. This forced both Draco and Theo to take a step back to allow room for Crabbe. 

"This is a two person conversation, idiot," Blaise hissed at the intruder. 

"Piss off, Zabini," Crabbe replied. 

"Shut up, neanderthal," fumed Blaise. 

Crabbe probably didn't know what that meant - Draco didn't - but everyone could tell what was the intention. A couple of students passing laughed at the remark, Crabbe knew better than to ask what the term meant. 

Crabbe, in all his social graces, shoved Blaise. Blaise was caught by Bulstrode with ease, and somehow managed stay on his feet. They were starting to gain a crowd. 

Bulstrode, because the situation couldn't get any worse, shoved Crabbe while he was distracted. Crabbe fell to the floor, flush with embarrassment. The crowd gasped; the Slytherin House was usually united. 

Bulstrode and Blaise stood together. Blaise looked at Theo, who looked as if he was about to cry, but he didn't say anything. 

"Theo," Blaise began. 

"Come on, Blaise, let's get out of here," suggested Bulstrode, a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"Yes Blaise, leave," Pansy sneered, coming up next to Crabbe, crossing her arms. 

"Want round two, bitch?" Bulstrode growled, leaving Blaise to move into Pansy's space. Bulstrode had half a foot on Pansy, the size difference more apparent than ever. Crabbe took his stance next to Pansy, ready to fight. The crowd gave them room, but still watched the show. 

Pansy looked up at Bulstrode, not affected by her size. Everyone waited for a person to make the first move. Draco was frozen to the spot, any move he made could worsen the situation. 

Draco looked away, closing his eyes, not wanting to get involved, but too curious to move. What could he do? There was no way to appeal to a sense of unity now, the Slytherins had broken into pieces, that much was clear. There was nothing he could do. All he could do was watch. He swallowed passed the familiar feeling of helplessness. 'This is nothing like that,' he reasoned. A coil of panic was swarming in his stomach, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. 

He open his eyes, trying to ground himself, to see Potter. He was with his friends, standing in the front of the crowd. Funny how Potter was always where Draco didn't want him. He had his arms crossed against his chest, clearly disapproved. He glanced at Draco, their eyes locked. Potter looked almost disappointed…in him? Draco was taken back to a simple room with simple company; laughter, concerned looks, a relationship in the new. 

He tried to trust his instincts, pushing his panic down. Pansy and Crabbe were out for blood, but Bulstrode didn't want this fight, she was here for Blaise. Blaise had simple motivations; Theo. Draco could take control here. 

With his chin high and his shoulders strong he moved in between the two girls. Pansy was malleable to the movement, allowing Draco the space. He stood in front of Bulstrode, looking up at her but not letting her size overpower his authority. 

"Step back," he ordered easily. Bulstrode stood, looking down at him before stepping back, but her glare still bore into his face. 

Draco motioned to Blaise, who moved closer, causing Bulstrode to step farther back. They were close enough to whisper in private despite the crowd. 

"He'll meet you in the Owlery just before dinner, now go. Tell no one," he supplied, hoping this was enough to make Blaise leave. Blaise jerked away, shooting Draco a glare, but Draco had guessed correctly. He left without complaint, followed by Bulstrode. 

Draco watched them go, but they would just be the targets for cruelty if Draco didn't do something. Everyone was watching him, the crowed had been ready for a brawl, now he had the authority along with the audience. Draco turned to Pansy and Crabbe, the pair looking too proud at the situation. "Embarrass us like that again," he threatened in a uncharacteristically cold voice that carried into the crowd, "and I will personally ensure you regret it."

Crabbe's confusion was almost comical. Pansy looked betrayed within her shock. 

Draco left, the crowd parting for him, for the apparent authority he now carried. Potter looked puzzled at the events he just witnessed, turning to Granger for her to explain the situation. 

\----------------

Draco sat in History of Magic, dreading the class but looking forward to his nap. Students were already at their tables when he had arrived, having been caught up in the dispute. Each desk was long enough to be accompanied by two seats facing the front of the classroom. He had taken the table in the back with the chair against the wall. This was the best table for gossiping, as he and Pansy had discovered in first year. This was also the perfect table to fall asleep in, the dim light of the back of the room assisting in drowsiness. 

He slumped in his seat. Maybe if he pretended to already be asleep Pansy wouldn't sit next to him, as she usually did. No matter how much Draco could dream, he knew that Pansy would be ready to skin him and he wasn't particularly looking forward to it. Perhaps he would become Professor Binns' teaching assistant in the afterlife, dammed to be forever stuck in this awful classroom listening to boring lectures forever. Actually… that didn't sound too bad. 

Other students filed into the classroom, each walking by the double desk Draco sat in. Word had already gotten around of the fight between the usually united Slytherins, and how Draco was the one who broke it up. Gossip about the event filled the air around Draco. 

Granger and Weasley walked in, not even noticing Draco as they argued about something or another. Potter followed in after them, but instead of following his friends to the front of the class, Potter took the seat next to Draco instead of his usual one. Draco's stomach dropped to the floor. 

Granger and Weasley stopped, looking back at Potter as if he just had grown a second head. Draco looked at Granger. She looked at Draco. He turned to Weasley. Weasley looked at him. 

He shrugged at the pair. They made vague motions which Draco understood as permission to be an asshole. "That seat is taken," he started, turning to look at Potter. Potter was trying his best not to look guilty. 

"Shut up Malfoy," Potter droned, unaffected and unpacking his bag.

"Move, Potter," he snapped. 

"Who's sitting here Malfoy?" Potter argued. 

"My bag," Draco answered, "now piss off." 

"No! I need to talk to-" 

Draco threw his bookbag at Potter. 

"Malfoy! Stop it!" 

Draco started to do the mature action and proceeded to kick Potter's shins. This, naturally, caused Potter to kick back. When the two boys continued to kick each other with intensity, Potter was pulled out of his chair by his collar by his good friend Weasley. 

Draco glared at Potter with as much intensity as he could. How dare Potter talk to him in public? Was he stupid? Potter rose, leaning over the seat to grab his bag, thankfully leaving Draco alone. 

Pansy stormed into the room behind Potter and his shadows, looking ready to kill. To kill Draco more specifically. 

Draco grabbed Potter by his shoulder to force him into the only seat next to him. The very same seat Draco had just kicked him out of. Potter looked confused, turning to see what would cause such a reaction from Malfoy. Pansy was standing uncomfortably close to Potter. 

"Potter," she growled. Potter, for his credit, only shivered slightly in fear. 

"Yes, Parkinson?" he asked innocently, using his large green eyes to his advantage. 

"Move," she demanded, as if talking to a child. 

"Actually, I'm going to sit here, thanks," he replied nonchalantly, taking out his materials for class. 

Granger and Weasley looked at Potter with concerned expressions. They turned to Draco, who shrugged. Pansy glared at him before finding a different seat. 

Professor Binns entered from the wall behind his lecture desk, moving through the wall with ease. Draco doubted he would ever get used to that. The ghost started to read from the textbook laid out on his desk, his voice putting Weasley to sleep almost instantly. 

Draco wanted to follow Weasley's lead, to put his head on the desk to sleep after last night, but he couldn't. Not with Potter sitting so close to him. It's not as if the two had never sat next to each other before. After last night… Draco knew the energy between them had changed. How was he supposed to talk to Potter now? Surely Potter wouldn't try to extend their new relationship outside the walls of privacy, would he? 

Perhaps Draco was overthinking this situation. He had always wanted to be Potter's friend, settling for sworn enemy whenever he was rejected. Draco was desperate for some sort of relationship that was purely friendly, not a coerced ally like he had with Daphne. Potter probably just didn't want to sit in front of the class, or was tired of his shadows arguing. There was no reason to assume he would want to sit next to Draco to be friendly. Why would he? Potter had his friends, good friends. Friends that were good. No, Potter had no need to be friends with Draco. 

Draco felt something nudged his elbow. Potter had slipped a large book across the desk. Draco glanced around the room, everyone else had either fallen asleep or was facing forward. Even Pansy was looking the other way. No one would see. 

Draco slid the book over to investigate, recognizing the book instantly as the Potions Theory book he had been reading. He must have left the textbook in the Room of Hidden Things. There was a piece of parchment sticking out of the top, one that he didn't put it there. He pulled out the parchment, reading the note. 

'You forgot this.' 

Draco wondered how Potter had realized he had forgotten the book, he hadn't noticed until now. Did Potter return later that night? Why did he even bother returning the book to Draco? 

With another glance around the classroom for prying eyes, Draco pulled his bookbag onto his lap. He rummaged silently for the salve he had made yesterday. Pulling the round container out, he wrote a note on the parchment. 

'For the next time you breath in her direction,' the note said. 

Potter smiled, Draco's chest felt light. Potter examined the plain metal container, looking puzzled. 

'Where did you get this?' Potter wrote on the parchment between them, putting the container in his bag. 

'I made it,' Draco answered. Potter looked surprised. 

'Should I be worried?' Potter wrote, drawing a stick figure with X's for eyes. 

Draco tried to hind his smile behind his hand, 'only if you don't trust me,' was his response. 

Why did he write that? Of course Potter didn't trust him. Draco considered letting Pansy skin him for his stupidity. 

'Nothing to fear then,' Potter supplied. 

Draco could feel his face turn red up to his forehead. His ears, cheeks and neck turned hot in flattery, Draco cursed his pale skin which only made his blush more obvious. He heard Potter snort next to him. Merlin, Draco was going to crawl under a rock and die. 

He turned to Potter, expecting teasing, but Potter only looked at him with a gentle look. Draco's chest felt warm. Potter was beautiful. 

Draco turned back to Professor Binns, who was lecturing about the Giant Wars. Giant Wars, how interesting, he should pay attention. 

Draco stared straight ahead, willing to let Potter have the last word in his embarrassment, his face still hot. Potter elbowed him in the arm, motioning to the parchment. 

'Meet me tonight?' the note said. 

Draco shouldn't. 'Of course,' he replied, his heart in his ears. 

'Same time same place?' Potter asked. 

'Sure,' Draco agreed on the paper. 

The two sat in quiet after that. Draco's eyelids getting heavy without Potter's distraction. He fell asleep more relaxed in this classroom than in his own bed. 

Potter shoved Draco awake, class was almost over and Professor Binns was explaining an assignment which Draco wasn't interested in. Draco stretched before putting away his things, including the Potions book. Class was dismissed. Before he left, Potter slid a folded piece of paper to Draco, leaving without another glance. Draco should wait to open the note, someone could see. And yet...

Draco opened the note. It was on the same piece of parchment they had used to pass messages to each other. Now, there was an unflattering drawing of Draco sleeping on his desk. Draco hoped Potter was going to choose a different career direction. In the picture, Draco was drooling and snoring in his sleep. A very inaccurate description. The only reason he suspected the drawing was of himself and not, say, Weasley, was the title of the artful rendition: 

'Draco' 

Draco. Potter had used his first name. 

Draco allowed himself to fold the paper before putting the note in his chest pocket. He rose, leaving the classroom after everyone else. Draco's stomach rumbled in hunger, he was ready for lunch. He walked down the now silent hallway.

Daphne walked up to him, meeting him in the hallway. He looked around to see if anyone was around. The two were alone. Everyone was usually in a rushed to get to lunch, this section of the hallway was cleared during this period. 

"How's Pansy?" Daphne hurried to the point. 

"How would I know?" Draco voiced. 

Daphne gave him an annoyed look, "You two have the same class," she explained. 

"Yes…" how was he going to explain himself? 

"…did she say anything?" Daphne prompted. 

"No," he answered truthfully. 

"Pansy," she stated. 

"Yes." 

"Pansy Parkinson," she clarified. 

"Yep," Draco agreed. 

"Pansy Parkinson didn't say anything to you this class period?" 

"Absolutely," he concluded, ready to leave. 

Daphne stared at Draco. "Why?" she prodded. 

Draco knew she was going to find out, might as well tell her. "She didn't sit next to me…Potter got there first," he explained. Daphne didn't understand. 

"Potter," she stated. 

"Yes."

"Harry Potter," she clarified. 

"Yep," Draco agreed. 

"Harry Potter, The Boy who Lived?" she mocked. 

"I think we've been over this." 

Daphne seemed to have a difficult time accepting this fact. "Why?" she asked. 

Draco knew she would find out, he couldn't keep anything from her. Plus, he needed her help. He looked around again; this was dangerous information. Draco pulled Daphne back into the History of Magic classroom. Professor Binns was off doing ghostly things out of the classroom. Draco put up an impenetrable charm for safety. Daphne looked worried. 

Draco sat on a desk, trying not to get defensive. "I've been covering for Potter," he started. He told her everything, how he had been covering for the DA, how Potter confronted him, how the two had met last night. The more Draco talked the more scared Daphne looked. By the end, she had started to smoke, not caring about the smell or the ash. She was pacing when Draco finished, walking back and forth between the desks, the smoke from her cigarette filling the air. 

"You're a fucking idiot for telling me," she snapped after a long pause. 

"Daphne-" 

"No! You know what position this puts me in! How could you be this stupid? We've talked about this Draco. You. Can't. Trust. Anyone." she lectured, as if he didn't know this already, like he wasn't painfully aware of how dangerous this was. He knew better than she did. 

Daphne stopped her pacing, moving to stand in front of Draco to look him in the eye, her blue eyes bright, dangerous. "I would turn on you in a second. If he threatened my sister, I wouldn't think twice. I would kill you with my bare hands if it meant keeping her safe."

Draco held her gaze steady, not backing down despite the warning. "I know," he confirmed, "I'm not asking for loyalty, I'm asking for help." 

Daphne shook her head, backing away from him, "No. Don't tell me anymore, I less I know the better," she stressed. 

"Wait, please-" 

"Draco! No, this is dangerous and I'm not going to be a part of it!" she yelled, fuming.

"I wouldn't ask for help if I could do it myself!" he begged. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Daphne? You're the only one who knows-" 

"Knows what, Draco?" she interrupted. 

Draco's temper cooled in his stomach, danger in his words. "You're the only one who knows where my true loyalties lie," he whispered. Saying the words made them true. Telling someone else could get you killed. Daphne's shoulders drop at his words, feeling the weight of his trust. Her temper left her then, as quickly as it came. She didn't know what to do. Draco was trusting her with his life, betrayal is death. 

Daphne sat next to him on the desk, laying her head on his shoulder. She put out her cigarette on the desk, not needing the routine. 

"Daphne please," Draco pleaded quietly, "you know what he's like, you know what he's capable of." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, taking her hand in his, a silent plea. 

"We have to be better than our parents. They let this happen. They put him into power, or they were too passive to fight back," he murmured into her hair. "Daphne, if we don't fight him we are letting him win," he pleaded. He was still holding her, her head hiding in his neck, but she didn't pull away. They stayed there, Draco was ready to give her the time she needed.

"I need you, Daphne. You can't fight for Astoria if you don't know how." 

Daphne shifted slightly, "How does Potter's Army help our people?" she whispered. 

Draco held her as he explained, "Potter's Army gives our people an out, they can take a stand without being alone." The Slytherin students are most likely out of any house to become Death Eaters, to follow in there parent's footsteps. Draco couldn't change that, but Potter and his friends could provide shelter for those within the house that are being most abused. 

Daphne pulled away from Draco, putting her hand on his chest for support. "You want me to recruit Slytherin students for Potter's Army," she realized. 

"Yes, for now only the students that are vulnerable," he agreed. 

"Blaise," she confirmed. 

"Bulstrode," he listed. 

"Who else? And how?" she asked. 

"I will make a list, but don't be too upfront about your stance. Right now, we need to try and find students who can be trusted," he ordered. "You have more flexibility with your social circles, you're popular and not being as closely watch as I am. Keep it subtle, but find out who can be trusted," he concluded. 

"Keep your name out of it?" she asked. 

"Don't even mention me, I'll be of no use if I'm dead," he confirmed. 

Daphne nodded, pulling away from Draco and grabbing her bag. "And I assume Potter knows none of this?" she questioned. 

"I can talk him into it," he shrugged, knowing Potter could be easily talked into saving people. 

Daphne gave him a look, "Come on, we're going to miss lunch." 

\--------------------

Draco pained through his reading, determined to understand this stupid overcomplicated Potions Theory book. Severus had made a snide comment about the series being 'over Draco's simple capabilities' and Draco wasn't one to achieve out of inspiration, but spite. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the front of the emerald couch in the Common Room. Goyle sat on one of the mint chairs adjacent to the couch, talking to Crabbe over Draco, who was sitting across from Goyle in the other chair. Daphne's knees where against Draco's head, as she had taken the seat on the couch directly behind him. She was reading a copy of the Prophet, humming in response to the stupidity. 

The fire Draco was facing warmed him and provided light for the book he was sure he was destined to never finish. Dinner had been surprisingly uneventful, as Pansy was tensely quiet. Theo had skipped dinner, Draco had assume because his meeting with Blaise in the owlery had gone well, as neither of them had been at dinner. Draco had made sure to steal some bread and cheese for the pair. Crabbe hadn't comment about earlier, Draco doubt he was even apologetic, but Crabbe was never one for social graces. Pansy could be bothered with social graces, but usually not in her anger. She had been unlike herself this semester, unfamiliar in her grief. The pressure she was under crushing her spirit. Draco had hoped, a tiny part of him in the back of his mind, that Pansy would get furious with him. He had hoped that she would fight him, hit him, anything would be better than this void between them. 

Draco supposed he was at fault for this. He should have taken better care of her, should have been a better friend, should have been there for her. Instead, he had only pushed her away when she reached out for help. 

Merlin, he was shit. How was he supposed to build a relationship with Potter if he couldn't keep the friends he has now? Potter was different though. He was easy to talk to, he also just…allowed Draco to be. Draco didn't have anyone who he could just be with, he was constantly playing a role; a son, a follower, a heir. Potter didn't need him, he had his friends, he had true friends. Potter was probably only reaching out to Draco out of necessity. If that was the caste, then Draco was determined to be useful to Potter in any way. Draco could be himself around Potter, even if their relationship was built on necessity. 

How pathetic was he? Draco had three civil conversations with Potter, but already their relationship felt more genuine than any of Draco's current friends. Well, the term 'friend' may be a bit of a stretch to label any of his relationship with his peers. Daphne, the person who he was honestly closest to right now, had threatened to kill him with her bare hands just hours ago. 

A picture of Potter, one from fourth year, Draco instantly recognized, was placed in front of Draco and the book he wasn't reading. Daphne had reached over Draco to enclose him in her arms while holding the paper so he could read. The article was some propaganda against Potter, unsurprisingly. 

"I thought you'd like the clipping," Daphne teased. Crabbe and Goyle both laughed, traitors. Draco grabbed the paper, tossing it out of Daphne's immediate reach. She scoffed, too comfortable to get off of the couch. When she was about to rise to pick up her reading material, she stopped in confusion. 

Pansy walked up tentatively to the group, her eyes downcast and hands clasped together, the perfect sign of feminine humility. Draco instantly tensed as she stood the respectful distance away, waiting permission to speak. 

"Pansy?" Draco inquired at the strange sight, his stomach twisting. 

"Draco, may I apologize?" she asked, her eyes still downcast. The room went quiet, all eyes were on Pansy in her uncharacteristic humility. Draco could count on one hand all of the times Pansy had apologized to him; it was zero. 

Daphne hit him on the back of his head, reminding him to stand through his shock. He rose to stand in front of Pansy, who looked small in her apology. She still didn't meet his eyes, staying docile. 

"Draco, thank you for stopping me when I lost my temper, " she began, following the proper social edict, while also trying to flatter Draco in all of his wisdom. Draco thought he was about to puke. "I can see now with your guidance that my actions earlier were childish and immature," she continued, her voice carrying throughout the common room, "I am not only embarrassed for my temper, but also for acting against your direct advice. The shame I have caused you is my biggest regret, I deeply hope you can find it within your mercy to forgive me. I am so sorry for how I have carried myself, and how it has reflected on you," apologized Pansy. 

"Pansy-" keep your apology, you owe me nothing, I just want you back. 

Draco could feel his chin shake, she shouldn't have to do this. He clenched his jaw, playing the role of authority for her. "You not only brought shame to yourself, but to me and the entirety of your family," Pansy tensed, her knuckles white, "but that is your burden to bare. I accept your apology, everyone loses their temper sometimes Pansy, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Draco publicly pardoned, "but perhaps we should talk about this in private."

Pansy flinched, but flowed Draco out of the Common Room. She was silent as she walked behind Draco, letting him lead her through the silent halls into an abandon dungeon. There were no torches this deep down into the castle, Draco cast a spell over their heads which provided a clear, yellow light. He then charmed the room to be silent to outside ears. His back was to Pansy, his stomach turned painfully. He should apologize, there are so many things he should apologize for. He doesn't know how. 

He waited for her to say something, to start this conversation, but she stayed deathly silent. "I don't know how to do this," he admitted into the darkness the spell didn't cover, not turning to look at his friend. 

"I'm sorry for your lost," he continued, uncappable of facing her. 

"Thank you," she supplied. 

Draco's chin quivered. Since when was this void between them? 

"You don't have to do that," he snapped finally turning to Pansy. 

"Do what?" she asked stupidly. 

"Don't play dumb, it's just us. You can't leech any power of off my name without an audience," snarled Draco, moving into her space. 

Pansy stared up at him, her eyes steady, not backing down. "You cruel son of a bitch," her voice was shaking, "I…I just…humiliated myself; for you. In front of everyone, and you… you have the audacity to be…" she stared to sob, shaking, backing away from Draco's cruelty. "How could you be so mean?" she whispered. 

"I never asked for you a public shaming, Pansy, you did that to yourself," Draco couldn't be responsible for this. He couldn't take care of himself, how could he have this responsibility? 

"Don't you dare! After you gutted me in the hallway, what else was I supposed to do?" she yelled, tears streaming down her face. 

"Don't be so dramatic, Pansy, I didn't gut you in the town square," he was shouting now, he couldn't blame himself for this. 

Pansy went still, she stared at Draco as if she couldn't begin to understand him. 

"What's it like to be so safe in your name?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her eye makeup in shrieks down her cheeks. "What's it like to be so fucking unconcerned with other people's problems? Untouchable Draco Malfoy," she stocked towards him, Draco backed away slowly. "My father will hear about this," she mocked. "My Daddy is wealthy, powerful and he only hits my Mommy behind closed doors. My Daddy can make all my problems disappear with a wave of his wand. My Daddy spoils me until I'm a selfish little cunt who only cares about shoving others down so that they can lick the shit off of my shoes," Draco's back hit a wall. His words wouldn't work, he couldn't get away. Draco could feel Pansy's breath against his face, so was so close to him she only whispered. 

"Well, Draco," she teased, her voice playful as her leaned in to whisper into his ear, "some of our Daddy's are dead." 

Draco tried to step away, only to be pushed back into the wall by Pansy. "Some of us have to gravel. Some of us have to leech and claw our way into his good graces, not all of us have a birthright. Not all of us have a breathing father who can protected us from his cruelty," she lectured. 

"And you know what he does to those he finds disposable, don't you Draco?" Draco's chest tightened. "You were there when he killed that muggle family, weren’t you, Dracy? How did he do it?" she taunted playfully. 

"Stop," his voice shacked. 

"Don't you ever pretend to know what I'm going through," she concluded. Draco looked down at the floor in his shame he couldn't move. Pansy stood there, staring into his soul, before she walked away. 

Draco could only take a breath when she left him. His breaths coming out in painful gasps. He sank to the floor, leaning against the wall. He curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and letting his head fall against them. Sobs clasped his chest. 

She hated him. Pansy, his friend. She hated him. How could Draco be so blind to her suffering? He had tried, had tried to take care of her, but she needed more of him than he could give. He couldn't do anything. He was worthless. 

Worthless to Pansy. Worthless to Potter. Worthless to save a murdered family. Father. Mother. He was worthless to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord could sense weakness, could sense how little Draco could offer. 

He would kill him. Kill Draco's family first, make him watch, before slowly killing Draco. He wouldn't use the Killing Curse, too quick. The Dark Lord likes to play with his victims, enjoys the cruelty. Draco knew this from experience. 

His chest burned, he couldn't take a breath. Panic curled into his lungs, he clutched his chest, gripping his shirt with both hands. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes in panic. He felt his stomach turn, his vision blurring at the edges. The walls closing in on him, burying him alive. 

Screaming, so much screaming. A mother screaming for her child, children screaming for their mother, hanging over their heads before a dreaded green light- 

His mother holding his hand in hers, silently begging him not to attract any attention to them. 

Draco sobbed against the memory, trying to push the thought away. Needing to breathe. 

But he couldn't. The panic still rose in his chest, he was worthless to fight against it. He sobbed still, letting the tears come, his breath still short. 

He sat there until he could breathe again, the panic still in his chest, but his breath calmed him. Tears dry on his face. 

He left the small room, his legs shaking as he walked back to the Common Room, taking his time. He wasn't truly ready for whatever mess Pansy left for him. 

He gave the password to enter the Common Room, staying quiet as to not draw attention to himself. He entered, making sure to give the show of confidence. He could feel stares on him as soon as he opened the entrance to the Common Room. Everyone was silent as he entered. Whispers against his back. 

He walked to sit next to Daphne, who was looking at him over her copy of the paper. Crabbe and Goyle stopped their talking. Draco scanned the room. Everyone was looking at him, their glances ticked his neck. 

Draco needed to leave, he had to get out. 

He grabbed his bag before leaving the Common Room, keeping his head high, shoulders square. He could study in the library then wait for Potter in the Room of Hidden Things, he just needed to be alone. Draco made his way out of the Common Room, silence all around him, no one daring to gossip about Pansy with him within earshot. He hurried away from the entrance, his stomach turning. Almost running now, he turned the corner- 

Only to fall over someone.

Draco hit the floor with a painful thump, he wasn't fast enough to catch his fall, as he had instantly wrapped his hands around the smaller figure to try and steady himself. Their bags strewn everywhere. Draco's forehead throbbed, his hands hurt from cushioning someone's head, he rolled of off the person who he had literally fallen on, looking up at the ceiling, seeing stars. 

"Watch it you idiot- oh, it's you," he heard a familiar voice snap. He turned his head, recognizing the long brown hair in a braid. 

"You," Draco stated stupidly, "Mystery Girl from the Mystery House," he supplied. She nodded as she sat up, she didn't appear to be injured, her robes were in disarray. 

"You're in Slytherin," he noted, following her lead. 

"How observant," she supplied. 

"How come I've never seen you before?" Draco asked, helping sort through the papers and books strewn throughout the hallway, their continence disorganized on the floor. 

"I usually keep to myself," she supplied. The girl blushed as she hurriedly stuffed her supplies back into her bag. Looking at the supplies on the floor, the fact that she was muggle born was obvious. Muggle pens, pencils and notebooks were everywhere. An instant give away. Draco handed her a hot pink pencil case, she snatched it out his hand. Her shame was obvious, or perhaps she wasn't ashamed, but fearful? 

Draco stood, holding out a hand to the frightened girl. She paused before allowing him to help her up. "What's your name?" he asked. 

"Mafalda," she answered, clinging her bag to her chest. 

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said. Mafalda paused, frowning. "That's a shit name," he clarified with a grin. 

Mafalda smiled, "Trust me, I know," she agreed, she looked ready to leave, but she bent down to help Draco with his bag. 

Draco would normally use magic for such a mess, but he kneeled to pick up his supplies, following her lead. Mafalda handed him the oversize Potions Theory book, "Oh, I've read this, what do you think?" she conversed. 

Draco paused, processing what she had said. "You. You've read this?" he clarified.

"Yeah," she answered. 

"This, this bastard of academia?" his inquired. 

"A little harsh, but yes," 

"And you understood it?" he pressed. 

"That's generally the point of reading," 

"Well, fuck you, you tiny genius," he tensed, impressed. 

Mafalda laughed at his response, "You did read the first two of the volumes?" she supplied. 

"They're volumes?" his head hurt at the thought. 

"Well no, but if you read the author's first two books, you should be able to understand this one," she explained. 

Severus recommended this book to Draco in person, he probably knew Draco would struggle though the complicated text. "That greasy bastard," he cursed under his breath. 

"Sorry?" the tiny genius asked. 

"Nothing," supplied Draco with a smile. He rose, "Try not to call anyone a frog-faced bitch," he called over his shoulder continuing to hurry away. 

"Try not to tackle any tiny geniuses," Mafalda called after him. 

\---------------------

 

Draco lounged across the couch the Room had supplied him. After finding the two books Mafalda had recommended to him in the library, he had spent a couple of hours finishing his homework before leaving to the Room. The couch was soft, comfy, and an awful shade of orange. Similar to the color of the fur coat of its host. 

Draco was surprised when he had entered the room to find the most hideous feline creature he had seen in his life. The creature was sitting in front of the fire, basking in the warmth. Whenever Draco had allowed himself to enter, assuming the room was empty, the creature simply blinked at him before going back to sleep. The feline appeared to be thoroughly domesticated. 

It probably wouldn't survive in the wild. Perhaps the creature would, as anything would look at that face and instantly have a heart attack. Draco almost did. He supposed the creature could be a cat, or a second cousin, Draco couldn't tell. 

Draco, however, could still feel his eyes droop, the Room could probably tell he needed sleep. Provided for him was a too comfortable couch and a lit fireplace that made the room toasty. Draco enjoyed how relax he was, not feeling this comfortable in a long time. He welcomed the sleep, letting the book fall onto his chest. 

"Hey," Draco woke surprisingly easily, Potter was leaning over the back of the couch over him. Draco moved to sit up, drawing his knees up to his chest as Potter took the seat next to him on the couch. Potter passed the two opened chairs, Draco noted with a warm feeling not coming from the warmth of the fire. The feline monster was nowhere to be seen, probably had left when Draco fell asleep. 

Potter faced him with a smile, "Hey sleepy," his body turned to face Draco. "Do you get any sleep at night? You're always asleep in class," he teased. 

"Twice doesn't make a pattern, Potter," Draco replied gently. 

"You're always sleeping in study hall and history, I've also seen you sleep in the library," Potter countered. 

"Funny how you've noticed, have you been watching me, Potter?" Draco noted. Draco watched as Potter's eyes widen, before he turned his head down, rubbing the back of his head. Draco gave him a gentle look when Potter glance up, blushing. "Why did you want to meet tonight? Is there something you need?" Draco changed the subject with mercy. 

"Oh…um, yeah…" Potter played with the sleeves on his robe, "I was hoping I could ask for a favor," he pleaded. 

Oh. Of course. Potter only needed him out of necessity, Draco should try harder to remember that. "Of course, what do you need?" Draco agreed easily. 

"Well, the medicine you gave me helped my hand a lot, thanks by the way, I was wondering if I could get some more?" asked Potter. 

"Already? Potter, how did you use all of it so quickly? You do know that you're supposed to use the salve on your hand right? Not your entire body?" 

"Of course I do! It's not that, it's for my friends," Potter mumbled. 

Why was Potter so nervous? "Of course I can, I'll get it to you as soon as possible," Draco shrugged. The potion was easy enough, getting the supplies was a simple task for Draco, he would see Severus tomorrow. 

"Really?" Potter grinned. 

"Of course Potter," Draco confirmed, smiling back at Potter with ease.

Potter smiled back, his warm eyes looking into Draco's. Draco allowed the moment to extend between them, comfortable in the private company. 

"Why can't I sit next to you in class?" Potter asked gently. 

Draco tensed before he could stop himself. He sighed, trying to relax. Potter has proven that he could be trusted, he shouldn't get so defensive. 

Draco swallowed, looking into the fire. How could he explain to Potter, the bravest man he had ever known, that he was scared? 

"You know why, Potter," his voice was quiet. He looked down at his hands, his shame cool on his neck. 

Potter rolled his eyes beside him. "No, Malfoy, I don't," he supplied. 

"It's complicated," Draco explained, getting defensive. 

"It's complicated? So we can be friends here but not in public? Why? Why is it complicated?" Potter stood, standing in front of Draco, his breathing heavy and his brow serious. 

"Perhaps you can't understand because the situation is too complicated for the likes of you," Draco snapped, standing to face Potter, his stomach turning. 

"The likes of me? What exactly does that mean, Malfoy?" Potter challenged. 

Draco tried to stop himself. He could see the ways in which this conversation could go, none of them good. He should try harder, be softer. He wants to be this softer, calmer version of himself for Potter. 

"What? Can't be seen with me because I'll hurt your name? Why? Did your father forbid it?" Potter taunted. Draco was frozen. This was too much. Potter knew him too well; he knew exactly where to hit. "Can't be seen with me because it'll hurt your father's job at the Ministry?" 

Draco didn't say anything. Disappointing Potter carved him out. Potter kept looking at him, Draco couldn't meet his eyes, he felt so small. 

"I should have expected this from you, fuck I'm stupid," Potter grabbed his cloak, striding over to the door. 

Say something. Tell him. 

Draco couldn't. The slam of the door breaking his silence. He stood there, the silence thick on his skin. Tears came shortly, his breath steady, but he couldn’t stop crying. He sat on the couch, his head in his hands, letting his shoulders shake. He curled in onto himself. Feeling the weight of disappointment in his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco lay in bed, staring up at the canopy. His eyes felt heavy from both crying and lack of sleep. 

People were starting to notice. Severus had been unusually caring during their tea yesterday. His godfather had never been a particularly warm person, but he did allow Draco to use his lab unrestricted. This allowed him to finish Potter's request. Twenty healing salves had found their home in Draco's trunk, but he had no way to give them to Potter. He had been avoiding Draco yesterday.

Draco knew Potter's anger, he wouldn't be surprised if this avoidance lasted a week. His chin quivered, he laid his arm over his eyes, needing the pressure. He should've handled Potter better, he just needed reassurance in their relationship, a simple explanation would have sufficed. But what was he supposed to say? After all, Potter's accusations were true. Draco couldn't be seen with Potter, and it was because of his name, but there was so much more at risk for Draco. Why couldn't Potter see the risks Draco was in? Why was he so utterly stupid? 

Draco rolled onto his side. He allowed his hand to slip under his pillow, feeling the familiar piece of parchment. He had to find a better place to hide this. He pulled out the note he and Potter had passed to each other a couple of days ago. He stared at Potter's familiar handwriting, the hurried, casual lettering. The picture drawn underneath. He had to fix this. Fix them. Could he make Potter listen to him? Probably. At what cost? He could tell Potter the truth. 

That was a terrifying idea. 

Draco's head felt heavy as he rose to get dressed. An early breakfast didn't sound awful, he wasn't going to get any sleep anyway. Draco dressed for the day quietly, none of his dorm mates awake yet. He made sure to grab his book bag, and with a moment of consideration the bag of healing salves, before leaving the room with careful silence. 

The halls were still sleepily quiet as his footsteps sounded against the bricks besides the gentle chatter of the paintings. When Draco arrived to the Great Hall, few students were sitting at their tables. Potter was nowhere to be seen, he was probably still asleep. Draco walked to the Slytherin table. The only students sitting there were Pansy and Daphne, deep in conversation. Draco thought about sitting somewhere else, but Daphne noticed his presence before he could decide. 

Daphne motioned him over with a relaxed grin. Draco took his seat across for the tight pair sitting next to each other. "Good morning, Pansy, Daphne," he greeted, pouring himself an early cup of tea. 

"Morning Draco," Daphne supplied cheerfully.

"Malfoy," was all Pansy could bother. 

"Have you started the homework for History?" Daphne helpful asked. 

"We have homework for History?" Draco answered. 

"You probably didn't hear while you were infatuating over Potter," Pansy chided. 

Draco's mouth opened, then closed. He paused. Open mouth, close mouth. Pause. Drink tea. "I…" he tried. Pansy laid her chin in her hand and raised her eyebrows with a knowing expression. "I… was not infatuated over Potter," he defended with some of his pride in tack. 

"Past tense? Darling, you have been, will be, and currently are infatuated with Harry Potter," Pansy grinned teasingly.

"That is the most absurd accusation that I have ever heard in my life," Draco stated. 

"You're in denial," she teased. 

"I am not." 

"You're in denial about being in denial," she supplied with ease. 

"I'm not infatuated with Potter," he argued. 

"I agree," she grinned, "you're in love with Harry Potter," she assured. 

"No!" he bellowed, blushing. Pansy smiled, her eyes warm. Daphne's nose shot out milk because she was laughing so hard. 

"Don't encourage her," he deadpanned to Daphne, who was sobbing through her laughter. 

Pansy then impersonated the only person at the table who, was in fact, infatuated with Harry Potter. "Oh Potter! Sit next to me! Sit next to me with your stupid, wonderful hair and your stupid green eyes-" 

"Pansy!" Draco squeaked. 

Pansy stood up, her wrist to her forehead, the other hand supplying support as she leaned against the table dramatically. "With his fine arse I always check out in Quidditch and his strong hands," Pansy swooned. 

"And his thick, pulsing broomstick," Daphne joined. 

"Oh, his broomstick that I'd like up my-" 

"Oi!" Draco cut off, silencing the jest. The two girls collapsed in laughter, clutching their stomachs and whipping tears from their eyes. 

"Draco, darling, we all know that if Potter took out his co-" 

"Broomstick," Daphne reminded Pansy. 

"If Potter took out his broomstick, you'd be the first on your knees," Pansy joked. Daphne laid her head down on the table, her shoulders shaking in joy at Draco's expense. 

"Okay, I'm leaving," he raised, ready to leave. 

"No, come back!" Pansy reached out, grabbing Draco's hand. "We'll stop, I promise," she confirmed, squeezing Draco's hand. 

"Yes, no more jokes about Potter's cock at Draco's expense," Daphne agreed with mock seriousness. 

"Thank you both. I'm thankful to have such understanding, sensitive acquaintances," he stated, sitting down across the pair. 

"Acquaintances? Come off it Draco, we're friends," Daphne insisted naivety. 

Draco glanced at Pansy, who met his gaze. "Yeah," she agreed, "best friends." 

Draco held Pansy's eyes. This was as close as the two would ever get to apologizing to each other. No matter how cruel they were to each other, they would always return to each other without apologies, without words. Instead, the pair always returned to each other with actions that had more meaning than words could ever possibly have between them. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to say we're best friends, but I appreciate the thought," Daphne broke the tension, drinking her milk. 

"Daphne, we weren't including you in our close group of friends," Pansy chided. 

"A group has to be more than two people," Daphne joked back. 

"Still, that's two more friends than you have," Draco teased. Daphne gasped in mocked shock. Draco grinned. More students were entering for breakfast as the morning continued. The three were approached by Crabbe and Goyle, who both joined them for breakfast. The Carrow twins also joined their group, but didn't participate in gossiping with Pansy and Daphne, instead they conversed with Crabbe and Goyle. 

The Hall was filled by now, any student not eating by now was going to be late, or had to hurry. Draco scanned the Hall. Theo wasn't here yet, Draco could only guest who he was with, as Bulstrode was sitting alone and everyone in the dorm was at breakfast.

Potter was sitting in his usual spot, across from his friends. What Draco wasn't expecting, was Potter to be looking right at him. Draco broke his gaze quickly with a blush. He glanced up again after a moment, Potter was still looking at him. Draco could feel his stomach turn. He returned Potter's gaze coolly. 

Potter held his eyes, Potters eyes were so green, even at a distance, before glancing towards the exit. Draco looked away, knowing what to do. He waited a minute before excusing himself to the lavatory. 

His spine tightened as he walked out of the hall, how obvious were they being? Did anyone notice? Draco made his way to the lavatory, everyone else being at breakfast, so they could possibly talk in private. What did Potter want to talk about? To tell Draco that he was wrong, they shouldn't be friendly? Perhaps to tell Draco to just fuck off? Draco knew he disappointed Potter, but could he save this relationship? 

Draco entered the lavatory, which was empty, as expected. He kept his back towards the entrance, not sure if he could face Potter's scorn. 

Potter entered the lavatory shortly after Draco, his footsteps being the only sound echoing against the titles. Silence cloaked the pair after Potter stopped to stand at a distance behind Draco. His spine tightened against the silence, against the awkwardness that was between them. Draco turned to face Potter, Potter's stance was sure, strong, ready for a fight. Draco wasn't going to argue with Potter, no matter how hard the fist that hit him. 

Potter took a deep breath in, as if gathering his courage, "Malfoy, look, I-"

Draco pulled out the bag which held the salves out of his cloak. Potter had to step forward to accept them when Draco held them out for him to take. 

"What's this?" Potter asked, opening the bag. 

"What you asked for, the healing salves," Draco gently reminded him.

Potter looked into the bag with a frown, his knuckles turning white against the fabric. He stood there, shoulders tense. Draco's neck itched in cold panic, his hands moist. What did he do wrong now? How could he manage to ruin this? This. This one good thing he had. 

Panic settled deeper into his chest when Potter stayed silent. "Look, I don't know what I did wrong," Draco babbled, "but I didn't mean to." Potter didn't move, still looking down at the bag. Draco's breath quicken, "I can't apologize if you won't tell me what I did wrong," he begged, his voice cracking. 

"Stop…Merlin, you didn't do anything wrong, why would you think that?" Potter hushed, meeting Draco's eyes. 

'Because I always do something wrong,' Draco thought but didn't say, staying silent. 

Potter lowered the bag and shuffled his feet, looking down. "I wanted to apologize for the other night," Potter stated. 

Draco's chest tightened, "Oh…" what was someone supposed to do in this situation? Draco drew a blank. "Umm…okay," he supplied dumbly. 

Potter sighed, "Look, Malfoy…I shouldn’t have said all those things, I was a jackass. I'm just…" Potter struggled for the words. 

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Potter," Draco assisted. 

"No, Malfoy, I owe you this. You…you surprise me. That's all. This…us, I'm not used to this. I'm just waiting for something to happen and for you to go back to hating me again. Because it feels as if almost everyone is against me, but you're here and you don't hate me…this is a weird situation," Potter explained. 

"I've never hated you," Draco confided. Potter looked up at Draco for the first time, his eyes bright. Eyes that made Draco honest. "I was jealous of you, you were everything that I wanted to be, so I was bitter. I don't know, it all seems so stupid now," Draco admitted. Such childish jealousy seemed pointless in the face of war. 

"You were jealous of me?" Potter asked, his voice in shock. 

"Of course I was, you were all my father talked about. I was constantly compared to you by my parents, by myself," Draco let out a dry, bitter, laugh, "but it always seems that you keep raising the standards." 

"And what do you think now?" Potter stood close to him, closer than ever. Potter was seeing him for what he was, and he wasn't disgusted. His eyes stared into Draco's, Draco noticed for the first time that they were almost the same height. 

"I think that you're incomparable," Draco whispered. Potter was close enough to hear him clearly, Potter smiled in a gentle way that warmed Draco's chest before he took a step back, the distance didn't seem far to Draco. 

Potter looked down at his shoes, "Your father, is he why you don't want to be seen with me?" Potter asked. 

Draco should tell him the truth, but that could get Draco killed. Draco bit his lip, rubbing his palms together. How was he supposed to balance this line between friendship and duty? His stomach dropped at the thought of blurring those lines together. He could hardly tell what was right and what was for survival anymore. 

"He's…" he tried past the lump forming in his throat. He swallowed. His father has made all the wrong choices and keeps making them. Draco was going to be the one to pay - the Dark Lord will demand blood or service when his father's fragile illusion of standing finally cracks into pieces. Draco was useless to do anything but watch his family's demise. "He can be cruel," Draco finally concluded. 

Potter nodded, Draco hoped that this would be enough of an explanation for him. "Okay," Potter agreed, "okay, I can understand." 

Draco's shoulders relaxed, "I should get back to breakfast," he mumbled. 

Potter nodded, biting his lip. When he didn't say anything more, Draco allowed himself to be dismissed, turning towards the exit. 

"Malfoy!" a gentle hand on his bicep stopped him, he turned to Potter. Potter stared into him, "same time, same place?" he prompted. 

Draco grinned, "Yeah," he nodded, "yeah, okay." 

Potter grinned back at him before Draco turned to leave, as he walked away, he sent a smile over his shoulder. Potter only smiled back at him. 

Draco left the lavatory, making his way to the Hall. Breakfast was finishing, as classes were about to start soon, but the halls remained empty. Draco couldn't stop smiling. Potter wasn't still angry at him, he actually understood. 

"Come on, Blaise. We're going to be late!" 

"Oh? And whose fault is that?" 

Footsteps hurried towards the Great Hall, the pair turned the corner. Upon seeing Draco, both Theo and Blaise stopped, the breath gone from their lungs. Draco swallowed, taking in the disheveled appearance at the two, their shoulders were touching, they were standing so close. They were holding hands. 

Draco sighed. This was a very fucked situation, he shouldn't get involved. He had more than enough to handle, they knew what they were getting into, they could handle they own situation. "I won't say anything," was all Draco offered, making his way back to breakfast. 

"Draco," Theo called after him. Draco stopped, turning back to his friends, wishing they lived in a world where he could be happy for them. Wishing they lived in a world where this wouldn't get them killed. 

The pair walked up to him, he was involved, there was no way around it now. "Draco," Theo pleaded, "Draco, please-" 

"Don't" Draco snapped. He couldn't be involved, he couldn't be a part of anything that could draw attention to himself. People keep putting the weight of their situations on Draco's shoulders. How long before Draco knelled to the pressure? How was he supposed to care for everyone, when he couldn't even care for himself? 

Draco looked at the pair, they were still holding hands tightly. "I'm happy for you two, I am," he started. 

"Here comes the 'but'," Blaise muttered. 

Draco tensed, his shoulders tight. "Appearances keep us alive in this world," he glared at the two, "both of you will do what you need to. I'll keep your secret as long as it is convenient, so don't be stupid," his lectured harshly.

Theo paled suddenly, looking over Draco's shoulder, Draco turned. Graham Montague was starting at them. Draco could sense Blaise and Theo distance themselves from each other. Draco glared at Montague, but didn't say anything, waiting for the older boy to make the first move. Montague was a year older than them, with broad shoulders and dark hair. Montague's jaw clenched. His opinion of Blaise had been clear, as he had the most to contribute in terms of abuse for Blaise. 

Draco tilted his head, daring Montague to make a move against him. He could handle Montague, but he didn't need the scavengers coming for his name. He would rip him to shreds if Montague stepped out of line. Montague noticed the silent threat, he turned around without another word, returning to the Great Hall.

Draco turned back to the couple, Theo pale, his eyes wide and smile gone. Blaise was looking down. 

"I'll go on ahead," Blaise sighed, an understanding nod in Draco's direction, no words were needed between them. He left without another glance. 

Theo watched as Blaise left, biting his cheek. Theo didn't need a reminder of his situation, he lived through the pain every day. This shown in his wise, pale blue eyes. "You won't-" he stared. 

"No, I won't. I promise," Draco swore. Draco leaned against the wall of the hallway. Theo followed. 

The two stayed silent until Draco's curiosity was too great. "How long?" he asked. 

Theo's eyes widened, then relaxed at the nature of the question. "The Yule Ball," he provided, "that was, um, our first kiss, actually," Theo further explained, a blush light on his cheeks. 

Draco hummed in remembrance. "Didn't you two double date with the Carrow twins?" he asked. 

Theo sighed, "Don't remind me, it was a nightmare," he recollected. 

Draco grinned, "I went with Pansy, ask me how well that went." 

"Didn't you lose your virginity?" Theo implored. 

"What? No!" Draco protested, his eyes wide in shock. 

Theo barked out in laugher, gripping his stomach and doubling over. "Oh, oh Merlin. That was bloody brilliant. Fuck," he wiped a stay tear from his eye. 

"You bloody wanker," Draco punched him in the arm, his laughter warm in his chest. 

The two allowed their giggles to continue as they drifted back into silence. Draco leaned against the brick wall, looking up at the ceiling. 

"I'm sorry," he heard. He looked over at the other boy, Theo was looking down at his feet. "I never wanted to get you involved, I know what your family is going through," Theo sympathized. 

Draco sighed, "It’s fine," he spoke in truth. 

"It's just…this is the only place I can be myself, or, at least, a closer version of myself," Theo didn't meet his gaze. 

Draco turned to face Theo. What Theo was doing…how he is, could get him killed. Probably by his own father, the horrid bastard, he had to know that. Was his life worth risking? Draco had to be sure before he took charge of the situation. "Theo, this place, Hogwarts, provides shelter, but only temporarily. You know that," Draco inquired. 

Theo took a shaking breath, taking a gasp. Tears threating to spill, face red and blotchy. "I know what situation I'm in, Draco, and being happy is worth whatever pain," he spoke with painful knowledge of his situation. 

Draco nodded, pulling out his handkerchief, handing the fabric to Theo. Theo wiped his face. "You're brave," Draco assured him. 

Theo grinned, returning the handkerchief. Theo steadied Draco with a gaze. "Draco," he started. 

"Yes, Theo?" Draco played along. 

"I'm gay," Theo grinned. 

Draco nodded, his lips tight, "I see, surprisingly Theo, I've known for quite a while now," he prompted. 

"Ah," Theo played a long, "well, nothing passes your unwavering wit." 

"Well, you're absolutely correct, my inferior intellect detects everything," Draco teased, "that, and, I caught you and Blaise snogging in the Astronomy tower after the Yule Ball." 

Theo gasped, Draco grinned wickedly before hurrying to breakfast, with Theo following closely, muttering insults under his breath. 

\------------------------

Draco felt as if he knew himself surprisingly well. He could almost always pinpoint the root of his feelings and pull them up like a weed to be disposed of. He knew that his constant need for validation is caused by his Father's constant disapproval and his Mother's cold nature. The pressure of being a Malfoy has caused a certain feeling of ownership over things that didn’t necessarily belong to him, that he tended to view himself as the automatic choice, even if he didn't have any claim to whatever he wanted at the time. He was also starved for genuine relationships, even if the idea of having to take personal responsibility for hurting someone else scared him. This caused him to keep everyone at a distance, keep his relationships superficial as possible. His parents approved of this distancing, which played into his need for approval and validation. This simply repeated the cycle of shitty feelings. 

Potter was everything Draco wasn't. He was brave. He had seemingly meaningful relationships with his friends. He had more confidence in his pinky figure than Draco had in his entire body. This is why, Draco supposed, Potter had turned down the title of Prefect. Why would he need another title? "The boy Who Lived, Who was also a Prefect?" No. Potter didn't need more validation than defeating the Dark Lord as a child. While Draco's own accomplishments were few and far in between, Potter added another accomplishment to his already filled resume every year. Which is probably the reason why Potter turn down being a Prefect, not worth his effort or time. Bastard. Setting boundaries. Draco was probably mostly jealous of Potter's abilities to turn down titles. Jackass. 

Draco wasn't particularly keen on being a Prefect, but, his Father and his father's Father had been and so on and so forth… blah, blah, blah… duty, family name… bullshit, bullshit and more bullshit. Whatever. The point is that Draco was stuck walking through the halls monitoring other students behavior and wasting his own precious time. This was hardly worth the nice, fancy bathroom and the authority to piss off anyone he pleases. Pansy uses the bathroom anyway, she wasn't even a prefect! Well, she was, but she turned it down by flipping off Severus whenever he tried to lecture her on her new duties within a week of returning to school. Within a month of the father's death. Severus had yet to appoint another Prefect, which meant that Draco had to double on his hall monitoring. Draco had to be the one to escort first years to their Common Room, disgusting little gremlins. Draco had to be the one to… blah, blah, blah…bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

Potter didn't have to monitor the halls. Potter didn’t have to go to stupid, boring meetings with the Frog-Faced Bitch. Potter didn't have to deal with disgusting little shits, who had the audacity to ask questions. Read a book, gremlin. Potter could just prance around with his stupid, beautiful green eyes, and his stupid, wonderful smile, with his stupid scar on his broomstick…stupid. 

Draco may hate being a Prefect. 

Everything was more work, no reward, little recognition. Hall monitoring was boring, dull. Draco contemplated slamming his head against the wall to get a concussion to finally have a reasonable excuse to stop walking these bloody halls. They were starting to bleed together painfully. Was he in the north hallway or south? In the dungeons or just in an older part of the castle? Was he going to get lost, starve, and be stuck on hall monitor duty in his pathetic afterlife? Who knows. 

Thoughts like these is what caused Draco to even vary his routine. Go outside, go to one of the towers, whatever, keep everything unexpected in order to not get lost and starve, or get bored. Which is how he was in this very unpleasant situation. 

Upon his way to the Owlery, two giggling Hufflepuff girls came rushing down the stairs. This wouldn't be unusual, however they looked particularly guilty at the sight of him and for the fact that one of their hair turned bright blue. Draco let the pair scurry down the steps as he further investigated. He hurried up the tower, only to be met with a boy whose hair turned from brown the blond right before his eyes after eating something. 

"What's that?" he stopped the boy. 

"Umm… it's… candy?" he boy supplied with a full mouth. 

"Really?" he raised his eyebrows mockingly, "I couldn't tell, give them to me," he held out his hand. 

The boy sighed, pulling out a large hand full of brightly wrapped, small, round candies. Draco took them, putting them in his robe pocket, "what are they for?" he asked. 

"They're Changeling Candies, they change your appearance," the boy explained, backed into the wall. 

"Where did you get these?" he prompted. 

"They're upstairs," he murmured. 

Draco was stupid enough to further investigate, finding the Weasley Twins dramatically announcing their different products. Fred and George were, quite simply, the biggest pricks Draco had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Did Draco draw first blood by making it his personal duty to piss off every Weasley? Yes. Did the Weasley's hate Draco because of his name, what his father did do the youngest Weaslet? Probably. Did Draco blame them? No. Did this erase the fact that the Weasley twins were still in fact, pricks? Absolutely not. 

So, when Draco caught them selling makeshift inventions to other students in the Owlery, did he walk away, realizing that the Weasley twins were, in fact, fucking twins and therefore automatically outnumber him? Unfortunately he had not thought that far. Now, he was fucked. 

He was now standing in front of the twins, both of which were very much taller than he, hands on his hips. The rest of the students had scampered off, leaving just him and the twins. Two to one. Damnit. The twins stood between him and their very interesting set up of various magical candies in brightly-colored boxes. He hadn't mean to stumble onto their set up, he was too busy being bored to care, but he wasn't paying attention when he walked into the dramatic set up. Now, he had to play his part. 

"It's not against the rules to sell candy, Malfoy," Weasley One snapped. 

"Yeah, it's a free market," Weasley Two agreed. 

"I'm quite sure selling magic instruments that get a student out of class for vomiting is not allowed," Draco cooled. 

"And I'm quite sure being dick cheese is not allowed," one of them retorted. 

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for language, Fred," he punished. 

"He's not Fred, I'm Fred, he's George," Fred argued. 

"Fine, twenty points from both of you because I can't tell you apart," he challenged. 

"You son of a bitch!" George fumed. 

"Twenty points for language, another fifty points for selling tools to disrupt learning to other students and another thirty points for wasting my time," he barked, "…each," he finished, always one to be petty. "Now, piss off." 

"Oh, but Malfoy, language," tusked one of the twins.

"Oh, but Weasleys, twenty points because I don't like you," he mocked back. 

The two fumed, one of them, Fred, George, Henry, he couldn't tell, turned and with a quick motion with his wand, the boxes packed themselves into two suitcases. The twins grabbed one each before making their way down the tower's steps. Their shoulders both pushing harshly against Draco, whose pride made him just take the hits instead of moving out of their way like a normal person. 

Draco breathed in the smell of the Owlery, or, the smell of bird shit. He didn’t want any further unpleasant situations by following the twins down the long steps of the tower, so he would wait until he was sure they had moved along. 

The pair were annoyingly stupid. Perhaps Draco should start having a solid, trackable routine so that students could better avoid him. He didn't have time to monitor other student's behavior, but he had gotten involved, so now what was he supposed to do? He could tell Umbridge, but her form of punishment was barbaric. Even if the Weasley Twins were pricks, they were undeserving pricks. Telling McGonagall would be more merciful. 

Draco made his way down the steps, thankfully not meeting any pissed of Weasleys on the way. He snapped at a few students, taking House Points for his reputation. If he remembered correctly, this was McGonagall's study hour, she should be available. Draco finally arrived to the stairs, he silently begged for none of them to move. Some students passed him, but gave him room, study hall was almost over so students were starting to crowed the hallway. 

He passed by Blaise, who was supporting a fresh black eye that wasn't their this morning. Blaise simply shared a glance with him, his expression told him everything. Montague. Draco hoped Montague didn't target Theo. Theo always had thin skin, probably due to his father's overbearing personality. Blaise could take care of himself, he had to.

Draco found the hallway in which McGonagall's classroom was in. Student filing into the hallway, Draco shoved his way through. Finally, he arrived at the classroom. The door was shut, so Draco knocked as politely as possible. He waited to hear a permission to enter, not wanting to intrude. He was just about to knock again when the door swung opened. 

Draco poked his head into the empty classroom. Professor was at her desk at the front of her classroom. "Yes, Malfoy, come in," she beckoned. 

"Yes, hello Professor," he entered the room, feeling uneasy. McGonagall always made him nervous, he wasn't sure why either. 

"How can I help you?" she asked, her eyes not moving from the essays she was grading. 

Draco stood right in front of her desk, unsure how to proceed. "Umm…yes, well," he stumbled. He pulled out one of the candies from his pocket, laying the candy on the desk. "The Weasley twins are selling magical candies that can get a student out of class, I just thought you should know," he explained. 

McGonagall inspected the sweet, "I see." 

The silence between them made Draco stomach turn, "yes, well, I caught them on my Prefect rounds, so I thought you should know, as you're their Head of House. Now you know, so… I'm… going to go… if I may, Professor," he stuttered before shutting his mouth firmly. 

McGonagall hummed at his explanation. Draco took this as his dismissal, scurrying away.   
\----------------------

Draco's bones felt too heavy for his body. He laid across the couch in the Common Room, his head in Pansy's lap. She seemed to be getting better at dealing with her grief, much to Draco's relief. Draco looked up at her, she was wearing makeup, he noted. Just like she used to, before this summer when everything went to shit. Her long, dark hair loose around her face. Pansy smiled down at him, her face still too thin, too pale, but still beautiful in the sharpness of her features. She was reviewing the notes Draco had taken for her, finally showing interest again. Draco smiled up at her. 

"I'm sorry," the words slipped past his lips before he thought about them, about their meaning. He said them quietly, for only her ears despite the crowed room. She looked down, taking a shaking breath, her warm hand moved to Draco's cheek. 

"I know," she breathed. Her forgiveness was something he was going to have to earn, but she understood his situation. Draco turned his face toward the fire, Pansy's hand moved from his face.

"Severus still hasn't filled the Prefect Girl position," he mentioned. 

"Oh, really? And what brings this up?" Pansy asked. 

"I would really like a partner in crime, I can't possibly piss off everyone in the castle all my lonesome," he explained. 

"You sure do know a way to a girl's heart," Pansy laughed. 

"Just yours," he promised, "please Pansy, I had to face the Weasley twins today!" 

"They automatically outnumber you." 

"Surprisingly, I found that out on my own," he retorted to her teasing. "Just think about it," he promoted. 

Pansy looked down at him, "I'll think about it," she swore. Draco grinned, pleasantly warm. 

"Move it or lose it Malfoy," he heard a familiar voice from above him. 

Draco groaned, he was too lazy to move from the comfortable position that took up the entire couch, but Daphne was always dangerously persistent. In compromise, Draco lifted his legs. 

"You're shitting me," she responded. When Draco didn't move, but gave her a pleading look, she took her seat on the other end of the couch. Draco carefully placed his feet on her lap, hopefully she wouldn't hex him. Daphne started her daily reading of the paper, making few comments. She provided explanation for Pansy whenever she had a question about whatever subject she was studying. Theo joined their makeshift study group, sitting on the floor instead of one of the chairs next to the couch. Books and notes scattered across the floor. Goyle joined them, but he never contributes much. Goyle, surprisingly wise, just nodded whenever Daphne would try to explain something. Draco would help him study later. 

Daphne's younger sister, Astoria, took a seat in the chair closest to her sister. The two gossiped while they both read their separate copies of the paper. 

Draco placed an arm over his eyes, warm and comfortable in this company. Safe. He allowed himself to drift off, trusting Daphne or Pansy to wake him if he started to stir in a nightmare. He thought of nothing in a rare moment of sleep. 

"Fuck off Montague!" Daphne snapped, Draco woke in a shock. He didn't move from his place on the couch. Montague was standing above them, stepping on Theo's notes. Theo seemed to curl in on himself, arms around his knees. 

"Such language from a lady," Montague tasked, Daphne bristled, Pansy sank deeper into the couch. Montague wasn't alone, two older students standing on either side of him. Draco adjusted, pillowing his head with his arm, resting his other hand on his chest. Right next to his wand in his cloak chest pocket. 

"You're not going to think my foot is very lady like up your ass," Daphne growled. The crowed room hushed. 

"How dirty, I wonder what other dirty things you can do with that mouth," Montague taunted. 

"Daphne," Draco cooled. Daphne froze, ready to rise and knock Montague on his ass. Her breath in short gasps, trying to claim herself down. The tension in the room was thick, Draco was rising against Montague without even sitting up from his relaxed position. He didn't need to. 

"Montague, do fuck off," he dismissed with ease. Montague didn't move, "or do you want to make a remark about my mouth?" Draco taunted, baiting the older boy who stood against him. 

Montague huffed in disgust, "wouldn't you like that, Malfoy?" he snapped, "isn't that why you sneak out every night, poof?" 

Draco tilted his head, with a quick movement of his wand he silently enchanted his wand to extend into a whip, which found Montague's neck. Draco only had to flip his wrist to force Montague to his knees in front of him. The whip tightening naturally. Montague gripped at the whip on his neck, his eyes wide. Draco pulled him in to where Draco could look him in the eye while still laying in his relaxed position. He allowed Montague to stay there a moment, letting the situation sink in. 

"Montague. Leave," he ordered. 

His wand returned to normal, Montague gasped of the floor. Draco laid his arm across his eyes, knowing that Montague would leave after Draco's cruelty. 

The room was silent for a long time after. Eventually, voices could be heard in the crowded room, gentle and quiet at first, but they gradually grew to their normal, slightly loud, volume. Pansy returned to her notes, making comments to Theo about. Daphne stayed quiet in her anger, Astoria didn't say anything. Something touched Draco's arm, he blinked, tilting his head up to see who it was. 

Theo looked up at him, his blue eyes bright. "Thanks," Theo whispered. Draco shrugged. 

Daphne pushed his feet off of her lap suddenly, storming off to the girl's dorm. Draco looked up at Pansy for guidance. She gently motioned for him to sit up, she followed Daphne up to their dorm. Draco wished he could follow, repair whatever damage he made, but he couldn't get into the girl's dorm. 

Astoria gave him a sympathetic look, "don't worry, she can't be mad forever." 

"Are you sure about that?" Draco asked, getting up from the couch. He made his way to his dorm, the night was still early, but he was tired. He waved off Theo, who called him a grandma by yelling it across the room, by giving him the finger over his head. The steps felt longer than usual, but he found his dorm in the same place as yesterday. He opened the door to find the room empty except for Blaise, who was still sporting a dark black eye. Draco tossed him one of the leftover healing lotions he had made for Potter. He pulled out the Changeling Candies, putting them in his bedside table, before getting into bed and drawing the curtain tightly around the frame. He laid back, wrapping himself in his blankets. 

Montague had known. Had known that Draco sneaks out during the night, but how? He was always careful. He hadn't known where, Montague would have used that information whenever Draco had him on his knees, but he still noticed. Who else noticed? Why didn't any of his dormmates say anything? Theo would have mentioned if he had known, wouldn't he? Blaise probably wouldn't have, this didn't concern him. But Crabbe and Goyal? If one of them found out the both found out, but they were more likely to be straightforward. 

Draco would have to be more careful, his first and only mistake was meeting Potter at the same time every time they met. He wouldn't be able to go tonight, the risk was too great. 

\--------------------------

Draco hurried to the Room of Hidden Things in the blanket of darkness that covered the late hour. What was he thinking? Potter would hate him if he missed their engagement, they had just made up. Potter probably wasn't even in the room anymore, Draco was hours late, but he had to be sure. 

He arrived to the span of wall which turned into the door, he rushed through the door. The room looked as it always did when he and Potter were alone, ugly orange couch in front of a warm fireplace with two purple chairs on opposite sides of the couch adjacent to the fireplace. The fire had dim sum, but Draco could still make out a figure laying on the couch. Draco walked over to the sleeping person, not surprised to find Potter there, sleeping soundly. 

The fire provided light that danced across Potter's warm face. Draco would be content to stand here to study Potter, to remember this version of him that is usually off limits. The fact that Potter had waited for him into the deep hour of the night warmed Draco's chest. Potter trusted him enough to show, which Draco did. He rose to the occasion. 

"Potter," he gently spoke, trying not to startle him, "Potter, wake up." 

Potter gently stirred, opening his eyes, the realization of where he was showing shortly after. Potter smiled up at him, Draco's cheeks turned warm at the sight as he returned the gentle smile. 

"You waited," Draco noted, his voice quiet at the proximity of Potter. 

"You took too long, did something happened?" Potter asked, sitting up and drawing his knees to him on the couch. 

Draco walked around the couch to take his seat next to Potter, allowing himself to sit comfortably close to Potter. "Someone has taken notice about my nightly outings, I just have to be more careful, that's all," he explained. 

"But we can still hang out, right?" Potter asked, his eyes drawn in concern. 

"I'll just have to be more clever," Draco grinned, not wanting to make Potter worry. 

Potter smiled, "That shouldn't be a problem for you." 

Draco opened his mouth to say something clever, but he couldn't stop smiling over the compliment. He looked down at his hands in his lap, a blush hot on his neck. He glanced at Potter, who was grinning back at him, aware of his affect. Draco couldn't bear to lose him, lose this relationship between them. He couldn't lose his only true friend untainted by war. 

"Potter, look, about what I said-" 

"Stop," Potter interrupted him, "you don't have to apologize." 

"Potter-" 

"Just," Potter stopped him gently, "let me first," he pleated. 

Potter's eye are so green, Draco noted before nodding, his heart loud in his ears. 

Potter started to pull at his pajama sleeve, but kept his eyes steady on Draco. "I wasn't fair before," he started, "I'm so sorry. I was just… so mad at you, but also everyone. And I took it out on you, but you don't deserve that." 

Potter was mad at him, but why? What did Draco do? "What did I do?" Draco asked, his voice shaking. 

Potter shook his head, "I didn't mean like that, I mean… shit, I'm bad at this," he faltered, his head in his hands. "I'm mad at everyone," he tried, "but I shouldn't be mad at you. I know why you don't want to be seen with me. I know that you have appearances to keep up or some shit like that, at lease I assume, I could be wrong… I'm not very good at this. All I know is that the Ministry is dragging my name through the mud and even some of my closest friends are distancing themselves from me and I can't turn to anyone because even Dumbledore's ignoring me. But here you are, you're nice and funny and smart and… you talk to me, not the Boy Who Lived or the Boy Who Lied. I should be thanking you for that, for seeing me, but instead I just get worked up and I say hurtful things that I don't mean. Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, and I'm sorry I said all those things about your dad. My point is; you have your reasons for doing what you're doing, and I'm okay with that. Because I like you," he finished. 

"You like me?" Draco blurted. Stupid. 

Potter gave a confused look, "We're friends, Draco, of course I like you," he simply stated. 

"We are?" 

Potter grinned, "don't worry, I was surprised too," he teased. 

Draco smiled, maybe he wasn't so alone as he thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco sat in his usual seat in history, ready for his nap. He and Potter had talked into the early morning. Draco smiled at the memory. They hadn't talked about anything in particular, just talked. Potter was comfortable around him, comfortable enough to even call him a friend. They were friends. Real friends. 

"What's got you all dreamy eyed?" Pansy took her normal seat next to him. Class was still a couple of minutes from starting, students were still filing in. 

"Nothing," Draco dismissed, Pansy shrugged, actually taking out her supplies to take notes for class. "How's Daphne? Is she mad at me for last night?" he asked. 

Pansy sighed. "I don't know, Draco, she's mad at everyone these days," she explained. 

"But why?" Draco furthered investigated, "so Montague said some stupid shit, she never gets this pissed about it. She usually makes a comment about the cheap robes he's wearing and moves on." 

"It's not that simple Draco, and you know it," Pansy hushed him. 

"Why not?" Draco prodded. Pansy looked down at her notes, opening her book, she was looking anywhere but at Draco. "Pansy, what's going on?" he questioned her. 

"Fuck off Draco, she'll tell you when she's ready," she snapped. 

Draco leaned into her, "Oh please, whatever someone tells you they tell me, everyone knows that," he hissed. 

Pansy turned to him, furious. Draco stayed silent, letting her decide. Pansy sighed, pinching the bridge of her noise. 

"Pansy, I'm just trying to help," he begged. 

"You wouldn't get it," she whispered to him, her face close to his to avoid eavesdroppers. Her eyes knitted in concern, her voice low but shaky. 

"Pansy, what's going on?" Draco reached for her shoulder, needing to know. 

Pansy leaned in further, her long hair touching Draco's face. "Her mother wrote to her yesterday morning after you left," she whispered into Draco's ear, "the letter was about Daphne's generous dowry." 

Draco pulled away, shock rushed through his body. "What do you mean?" he asked. 

Pansy pulled him in close, "her family is presenting her over the winter break, to her betrothed," she explained. 

"Betrothed? Married, betrothed? That hasn't happened since… oh my god," realization twisted his stomach painfully. He thought he was going to puke. The Dark Lord was always one for traditions, even those that had been long rejected. 

Daphne would be married off to her betrothed when she became of age, probably on her birthday to ensure quick pregnancy to further pure-blooded lineage. She probably wouldn't know who her future husband was to be until the betrothal ceremony. He was probably going to be a much older man, wouldn't be surprising if he already had children. 

Draco met Pansy's gaze, she confirmed his suspicions. How did he miss this? Why didn't Daphne tell him? Arranged marriages had been a long tradition of the pure blooded culture, but betrothed at fifteen? Betrothal ceremonies had been dismissed a long time ago. If Draco remembered correctly, the last betrothal ceremony happened over seventy years ago, even then the ceremony was looked down upon. Most arranged marriages were simply gentlemen's agreements these days, but Draco didn't know anyone who had their marriage arranged. The tradition had simply died out. For good reasons too. 

Draco didn't listen to the ghostly professor, but he didn't sleep either. His thoughts were too loud. The Dark Lord wanted to ensure the future lineage of pure blood. Arrange marriages were the best way to promise pure blood. Early pregnancies also promised many children. The amount of pure blood in England had been declining with the recent decades. More children from pure families were needed in order to preserve the culture. 

But why Daphne? Why someone so young? The Greengrass family was pure blooded, but they were never apart of the first war as far as Draco knew. Daphne's father didn't even have the Dark Mark. What could pressure them to auction off their daughter? Perhaps to gain mercy from the Dark Lord? Was the Dark Lord making an example of them? A warning to other families who didn't swear their lives to him? 

No, that didn't make any sense, the Dark Lord would see this as a blessing. The family he would pick for this would be an honorable family, one he would want to make an example of for other families. The Greengrass family was free of scandal, they would make an excellent candidate. But they didn't have any connections to the Dark Lord, except by their social circle. 

This wasn't adding up. Why a family that wasn't directly connected to the Dark Lord? Why Daphne, who was so young? Surely there were other fertile women that were older? 

Unless… she was being betrothed to someone the same age as her. 

This could reintroduce the wizarding world into the idea of betrothing minors. She wasn't being forced to marry an old man twice her age. It would be presented as a mutual agreement between two families, the media could spin this into a fairy tale happy ending. Which is why a family not in the immediate control of the Dark Lord was chosen, the Greenglass family was well known throughout the Wizarding World. 

This didn't answer the question as to who Daphne was betrothed to. Probably someone in their year, for the media's sake. Who did that leave? Blaise what out of the question, his mother would poison the Dark Lord herself before she allowed her son to be blackmailed. Theo? Possibly, his father would happily offer his own son to the Dark Lord's needs. If Theo's father had suspicions about Theo's sexuality this would be the way to protect his son. No, Mr. Nott would sooner kill Theo than have such disgrace fall upon his family name. The mysterious circumstances with the death of Ms. Nott however was still a scandal. The Notts simply didn't have the current standing to make such a bold social move. With this knowledge, Draco could eliminate Crabb and Goyle. Merlin, who else could it be? Someone with very few scandals within their family, comparably. They had to come from a strong, pure name. Someone whose family is within the immediate control of the Dark Lord…. 

Draco gasped. He gripped Pansy's wrist, his knuckles white. His heart beating loudly in his chest. Everything seemed distant, he couldn't hear the professor, all he could hear was his own thundering heartbeat. 

It was him. He was Daphne's betrothed. He would have to marry her in two years, be her husband, raise their children. How? How could he be suspected to do that? Support a family? Have a family before the age of twenty? Why? He couldn't, he wouldn't. 

But he would. He would because he had to, he didn't have a choice. Draco's feelings slipped away, they were replaced by cold logic. Out of anyone, Daphne would be his first choice for marriage. They were friendly, he had nothing to hide from her. She was attractive, smart and would be a valuable partner. They could make this work. The first child would have to be born within the first year, he could take a job at his father's department at the ministry. Daphne would have to stay home, as was her duty, she would hate it, but perhaps she could take on a career part time to stop the restlessness after the first three were born. How many children were they suspected to have? 

What sort of father would he be? 

How could they raise innocents into this world as it is? 

What would Potter think of his engagement? 

Potter, he would probably be disgusted. Draco was. How could he explain this to him? Potter didn't need to know, Draco wasn't even told. The announcement probably wasn't going to be made until after the betrothal ceremony, which was going to be this winter break. Draco didn't have to tell him until then. Perhaps then, the subject of Draco's home life would be mentioned. What was expected of him. What he had to do. 

A gentle hand on his brought Draco out of his thoughts, he turned. He still had his hand tightly on Pansy's wrist, he loosened his grip. Pansy squeezed his hand as he ran his thumb against her wrist in apology. They were never ones for words. 

Pansy. Poor Pansy. If she wasn't being pressured into marriage now, she will be soon. Her mother would be aware of the situation soon, the quick shift in roles. This could offer protection, but practically no one would touch the Parkinson name since Pansy's father's death. Pansy was a fertile woman, an attractive one at that, she would be betrothed to anyone who would take her dowry. 

How much was Daphne's dowry? How much was her life worth? 

Merlin, she was going to hate him. She always had a temper, but she knew Draco. She knew of his loyalties, his hesitation, she would kill him. She would kill him with her bare hands if she thought he was being careless, how was he supposed to marry her? She agreed with him, the Dark Lord was a disease, but would she risk her family? Her sister, who she cared for deeply? No. Draco supposed she wouldn't. 

Daphne knew too much, that was the nightmare. She could have Draco killed. He could have her killed, if he wanted. He hoped he wouldn't have to but… if Daphne was cornered, she would lash out, and Draco had no intention of being a consequence of her own insecurities. 

She could be manipulated, she had been in the past. However, she would be more careful around Draco. If he was going to gain control over her, ensure his own safety, she would have to trust him. She would have to feel safe with him. He would be working against the authority he would be given as her betrothed. How? How could she feel safe with him when she was practically his property? She would have to be in control. She would need to rebel from the role she was forced into, one form of rebellion. A cigarette. 

Dumbledore's Army. 

No. That was dangerous. Stupidly dangerous. If she was caught she was dead. If she was caught she would reflect on Draco, Draco could be punished for her actions. But… no one in the DA would betray Daphne, why would the Dark Lord care about Hogwarts rumors? She would be safe with them, maybe, if she chose to, she would leave her family. Leave Draco, leave her dowry. Was it worth the risk? Daphne was going to rebel for the sake of rebellion, Draco had planted that seed long ago, but would she fight against the Dark Lord? 

In theory, if she did join the DA, Draco would have enough control over her to battle any threat she made. Perhaps that would be best, as a precaution. If she was found she would be killed, but Draco would have proof against any words she spoke against him. They would simply be the disparate words spoken by a silly girl. Plus, if his betrothed was killed for being a traitor, Draco would have more say in his next finance. 

Daphne was his ally, she had more than proved herself, he shouldn't automatically try to plot against her. She would only lash out if she felt threatened, so he would make sure she was safe. But nothing was that simple, Draco couldn't protect himself, his father's influence was crumbling. If they were forced, if Daphne and Draco had no other choice, they would choose themselves. Simple. 

Merlin, Draco was disgusting. He sighed, Daphne wasn't a bitch to be put on a leash. Class ended, Draco rose. Fuck, this was a shitty situation. Daphne would be at lunch. Draco could pretend not to know, but Pansy would probably tell Daphne that he knew soon. He could say that he was waiting for Daphne to tell them, Daphne could call Draco a goddamn lair. He made his way to lunch, Daphne had been acting fine all day. She was a better lair then he suspected. She was dangerous. 

Pansy walked beside him, allowing him to be silent without question. The two exited the classroom and into the crowed hallway. Students milled around him. They all seemed so young. How many of them didn't know of the dangers that lurked in the shadows? How many of his peers were going to be forced to carry the weight of an early marriage? His marriage was just the beginning; the tip of the iceberg. There was a cliff, he was expected to jump, eyes close. 

The jerk of tripping interrupted his thoughts. He hit the floor. His bookbag spilled, his cheek hit the floor. His head throbbed as he turned to see who was responsible, probably one of the Weasley twins getting back at him for turning in their business. Montague stood over him. Fuck. A couple of Gryffindor trouble makers was one thing, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain was another. Montague sneered at him, towering over Draco, who had rose to his knees. 

Draco pushed down his hot anger, he couldn't afford the attention. He breathed through his temper, fighting back the hot spike in his stomach. He wanted to fight. 

Draco stood, his head heavy, his knees sore. He glared at Montague, who just looked down at him. The two boys stood, Draco had to look up at Montague, but he didn't back down. Montague had identified him as a target, this wouldn't end unless he put Montague in his place. 

"What are you doing, Montague?" he asked. He had to know why Montague thought he had a base to challenge Draco's authority. 

"Someone needs to show you your place, Malfoy," Montague sneered, "walking around like you own the castle, when really you're nothing but a traitor to the pure blooded name." Montague moved closely into his space, trying to intimidate him. 

Draco let his anger cool, he needed to stay calm. He relaxed his shoulders, folding his hands behind his back, leaving himself opened if Montague wanted to attack. If he dared. "And how did you come to such a conclusion?" he asked, his voice sickly sweet. 

Montague was off putted by this, his expressions were painfully obvious to read. "I've seen you…" he hissed quietly, they were gaining a crowd. Montague was out of his debts. 

Draco tilted his head, "I've what? Sorry, I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up," he baited. 

Montague reddened at the teasing. "I've seen you," he barked, his anger rising, "you walk around like you own the castle-" 

"Yes, you've already said that, do keep up," Draco chided. 

"When really you're just protecting the blood traitors," Montague argued. 

"Really? And what you would know of blood traitors?" Draco asked. 

Montague opened his mouth, then closed it. His face was red, he was constantly shifting his feet. He had lost before the fight even started. Draco was slightly disappointed, this was almost too easy. 

"Goodbye, Montague," he dismissed, "I'll see you in Quidditch practice." Draco turned around, Pansy had collected his bookbag for him. The crowed around him started to dispersed, disappointed. 

"Your doom mates are certainly friendly," Montague called after him, "is that where you go every night?" 

Draco stopped, he had pushed Montague too far. He was cornered, so he struck out with what he had. Draco turned, Montague was only clawing for information, throwing punches until he hit a nerve, but he was getting too close for comfort. Montague wouldn't stop. Draco had to win, right here right now. Win this fight so he wouldn't have to fight again. 

Montague placed a finger on his chin, appearing thoughtful. "What were their names again…?" he pondered. Draco struck. 

"Your mother's cunt is dry," Draco spoke clearly. Shook ran through the crowed, Montague gasped. Draco titled his head, "How many secretaries has your father fired? I've noticed that he put another add out in the Profit, who many is that now? This would be the fourth this year?" Montague swallowed, Draco wasn't going to let him off so easily, easier to make an example of him now than deal with the consequences. 

"Your father fucks his secretaries, fucks them until he gets bored of them, then he fires them for a new, wet fuck," Montague paled, Draco further twisted the knife. "How many little bastard siblings to you think you have? One of them probably got pregnant, your father had to start paying her off to keep her quiet, is that why you're wearing the same robes from last year?" he taunted. 

"So you lash out. Daddy doesn't love you, Mommy finds comfort in the end of the bottle," Montague flinched, Draco was right. "You have so much angry feelings inside of you that you feel all twisty so you find someone to shove down so they can lick the shit off of your shoes. Why? Does making others feel like shit make you feel better? Or is it your way of trying to get attention from daddy? Does your father hit you instead of ignore you when you act up?" Montague's chin quivered, he should stop. Draco had proven his point, Montague had been humiliated, but fury pushed Draco to new lengths. New cruelty Draco didn't know he was capable of. 

"Yet, your father still tries to find young girls with tight asses to fuck. How does it feel to be in second place to your dad's cock? Your father would rather pay a girl to keep her mouth full of his cum than buy you new robes for school." Draco stepped into Montague's space, Montague wouldn't look up at him, his head lowered in embarrassment. Draco could whisper into his ear, he was so close. "Try to humiliate me again, and I'll point out to everyone that you father is also looking for a new assistant, preferably male." Montague nodded, tears on his face. 

Draco turned, the crowed parted. He had proven his point to Montague, but he needed to make clear where he stood, what he would do if anyone crosses him. "Oh, Montague," his voice chillingly polite as he turned to face the older boy, "before you get any ideas, do remember that that was my first hit. I could do so much more." 

Pansy walked by his side as he strode off. Everyone kept their heads down as he pasted the other students, afraid they would be next for Draco's verbal lashing. "That was gutting in the down square," Draco clarified to Pansy as the two walked away from a silent Montague. Students continued to avoid him, he didn't blame them, he was out for blood. 

He needed to calm down, he could snap at any minute. Daphne. Daphne would be at lunch, Draco couldn't let her see him like this. Not anymore. There were boundaries between them now that neither of them consented to. He excused himself from Pansy to the lavatory. She just gave him a brisk nod. 

He locked himself into a random stall, his hands were shaking. His first sob surprised him, he quickly place a silencing charm around him. He tried to calm his breathing, but he couldn't. Why? Why? Why wasn't he told before about Daphne? How was he expected to do this? This balancing act of appearing to be in the Dark Lord's service when really he could stomach being around him? The man who was playing the Malfoys as if they were his puppets? Daphne. Daphne knew too much, but she didn't understand, not really. She wasn't there, she wasn't there when-

When the Dark Lord showed Draco how cruel he could be. 

When the Dark Lord killed an innocent muggle family in front of Draco. A mother and a father, before moving on to their two children, ending in him killing an infant. 

Draco knew how dangerous he was, what he would do. He had to take precautions, Daphne knew too much, about him, about how he feels. What exactly is he capable of. 

He as shown her too much, she knows what he would do. The humiliation with Montague proved how far he would go. Daphne would be even more careful around him. He had to gain control over the situation. 

Daphne was his friend, yet everything seemed to be tainted by this war. Their friendship would be smothered by the pressure. 

The weight in Draco's chest deepened. Daphne was his friend. She would hate him soon enough. 

"Malfoy? Malfoy, are you there?" a knock on the stall. Draco wiped the tears from his eyes. Potter, what did he want? 

Draco removed the silencing charm. "Fuck off Potter, I'm taking a shit," the sneer in his voice was natural as he called over the stalls. 

"Bullshit Malfoy, let me in," Potter called back. 

Draco sighed, resting his head in his hands. "I'm…not really in the mood to talk right now, Potter. Just go," he called out, he voice clear despite the shaking in his chest. . 

"Malfoy, let me see you. Are you okay?" Potter's voice was gentle. 

"Yeah, Potter, I'm fine. I just want to be alone," he explained. 

Potter was silent for a moment, then, "Malfoy, just open the door." 

Draco opened the stall door, his face was warm from crying, he felt so stupid. He looked down at his feet. Potter moved past him into the stall, shutting the door behind him and placing a silencing charm. Draco leaned against the stall wall, Potter stood against the opposite side. Draco didn't know what to say, he couldn't even guest what Potter wanted. 

"Why are you here?" he finally asked. 

Potter's eyes got wide before glancing down. "I just wanted to makes sure you were okay, that was intense, in the hallway," he explained. 

Draco sighed, "so… you saw that," he cringed. 

"Did I see you make Montague, the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team, cry? Yes, yes I did," Potter confirmed, but he didn't seem angry with Draco. Why? Potter grinned, "The guy is a dick, and he started it, he had it coming," Potter shrugged. Draco smiled. Potter continued with, "I'm just worried that he will give you a hard time during Quidditch meets."

Draco shrugged, "I'm pretty sure Montague will stay clear of me."

Potter nodded vigorously, "If he knows what's good for him. It kind of makes it seem like you were pulling your punches whenever we got into a fight."

Draco laughed, "I guess I never wanted to give you any real harm."

Potter tilted his head as he grinned, "I'm going to need you to write that down." Potter dug through his pockets before pulling out an half eaten bar of chocolate. He broke the bar in half, handing the larger piece to Draco. Draco took the piece. Potter looked incredibly pleased with himself. Bringing the chocolate to his mouth, Draco took a bite. He pinched his eyes together in slight confusion. Why was Potter so pleased with himself? Did he do something to the chocolate? 

Potter ate the chocolate, his mouth full as he explained, "Chocolate always makes me feel better." 

Draco ate the sweet candy, "Chocolate's my favorite."

"Hmm," Potter nodded, "me too." 

The pair ate their chocolate in silence. Draco eating in pieces, while Potter finished his in one bite. Draco offered Potter a piece of his half, which Potter accepted by finishing the chocolate in one large bite. Draco snorted and laughed. Potter smiled over his full mouth. 

"So…Umm…." Potter swallowed. "If you want to talk about whatever is bothering you, just….talk?" 

"Why would you think something is bothering me?" Draco asked, nibbling the chocolate. 

"Malfoy, you just made the Captain of the Slytherin Team, your team, cry in the hallway. What's up?" Potter pointed out. 

Draco allowed his head to fall against the stall wall. "Don't worry about it, Potter. I'm sure you have enough problems to worry about," he dismissed Potter's care. 

"Malfoy, you're my friend. Just let me what’s going on," Potter pestered. 

Draco could feel his nerves grind against each other, he felt raw, exposed. His jaw tightened as he shifted positions. Potter sighed, rubbing the back of his head, "Malfoy, look, I'm not very good at this sort of stuff. Listen, if you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here for you. Without any judgements, okay?" 

Draco met Potter's eyes. Potter was meeting him where he was. "Yeah," his voice breathy, "yeah, okay. Thanks, Potter." 

Potter then grabbed Draco shoulder, he squeezed reassuringly. "Meet me tonight?" he asked, hand still on Draco's shoulder. 

"Of course," the answer escape his mouth before he could think. "Same time, same place?" 

Draco really likes Potter's smile. "Yeah," Potter grinned, before leaving to lunch. 

Draco watched him leave. He waited a bit before making his way to lunch. 

\--------------------------

Draco walked through the empty halls. Professor Frog-Face had excused him from class to instead have him monitor the halls. She was getting increasingly impatient with Potter and his army. She had certain, trustworthy, students monitor the halls in hopes of finding the club Potter was running. Draco had pointed out that most of the dungeons had yet to be investigated, so now most of Umbridge's minions where running in circles in the dark dungeons. He had bravely volunteered to continue his hall monitoring alone. Upstairs, away from the dungeons. 

Daphne had been strangely normal despite the circumstances. She did her usual routine throughout lunch. She gossiped with Pansy and the Carrow twins, the only difference was the fact that her younger sister, Astoria, had join them for lunch instead of sitting with her usual crowd. 

Astoria was the opposite of Daphne in almost every way. Astoria had taken her father's dark brown hair and eyes, instead of their mother's fair blond hair and blue eyes. Draco couldn't remember ever seeing Astoria in a group outside of her sister's usual crowd. She was only seen with the Harper boy, who stayed clear of Draco's social circle. Draco had also seen her with the muggle girl, Mafalda, a few times. 

Draco made his way to the Room of Hidden things. Perhaps Astoria sat with Daphne to comfort her? As a way to ensure Daphne behaves? Daphne had a temper, but she usually managed to keep to herself, even when she was furious. Perhaps Astoria knew that Daphne was barely containing her anger? Maybe Draco was under estimating Daphne's self-control. Under estimating Daphne was an incredibly dangerous thing to do. 

He made sure to look casually away whenever he heard quiet footsteps and hushed whispers. He just hoped no one would be tempted to hex him, but the Weasley twins were still out for him, so he kept his guard up. Anyone not in the DA he made sure to snap at, taking points from anyone outside his house. He ignored the many footsteps behind him, they stayed a good distance away, waiting behind each corner. He smiled, Potter would appreciate this. ***

Dumbledore's Army was supposed to meet soon. Yet, here he was, right in front of the Room of Hidden Things. He walked right by the location of the entrance. When he turned the corner, out of sight, the quick footsteps behind him made him laugh. Merlin, they were so painfully obvious. He was going to have to have a talk with Potter about being more discrete. 

Draco took his usual post behind one of the armors along the hall wall. He enchanted himself so that no one would find him. He had started the habit whenever Umbridge had started recruiting students to help find Potter's mysterious club. He simply jinxed anyone who got too close, or that he wasn't particularly fond of, his aim had vastly improved. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin whenever he felt something brush his leg. The hideous cat from before was staring up at him. He hissed at the creature, who licked their lips with a tilt of their head. He tried to shoo the cat away, but the thing just sat down, staring up at him with their beady, ugly eyes. 

He was just about the hex the pest when he heard footsteps coming forth. He strained to see who it was. The muggle girl, Mafalda, was creeping alone the wall. Passing Draco's hiding spot and poking her head around the corner. From there, she could observe the entrance of the Room and not be seen. She was observing. Draco didn't hex her, instead, he watched to see what she would do. This was a good way to see if she could be trusted. Mafalda didn't pay any mind to the cat still staring at Draco, the cat that seemed determined to have Draco jinx him. 

Mafalda did nothing but watch. She eventually pulled out a notebook to write down a short note. Names, perhaps? She crouched down, petting the feline whenever he brushed against her leg. Draco shifted, he was getting stiff behind the armor. This girl must have incredible patience. He watched her watch the hall. Mafalda rested her chin on her knees. Why didn't she bring a book or something? Wasn't she young? Don't young people get bored? Was she bored? Draco was. Probably because he was young. She was young, he was older than she was. He wasn't going to have less patience than someone younger than himself. He would stand here as long as she sat there. Even longer, just to prove his point. 

"Shit," he heard. He focused in on Mafalda, she was concerned about something out of Draco's sight. Was someone coming? Students could enter the Room of Hidden Things at any time. Was someone following one of the students, about to discover where the DA was meeting? 

"Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it, what the bloody shits are I-" 

Mafalda was panicking, looking around, she pulled out her wand. She pointed the wand, before returning back to her swears. The cat brushed against her leg carelessly. She looked down at the cat, before pointing her wand at the creature. "Sorry," she whispered, before the orange cat was flung into the air and around the corner. 

Mafalda ran away in the opposite direction. Someone was screaming over the screeching growls of the cat, a vibrant string of swears follows. Draco stayed where he was. 

Montague turned the corner, running past Draco's hiding spot. His face was bloody and an orange cat was latched onto his back. Montague spun in circles, his hands trying to grab the cat, but was only met with a hiss. Draco watched in quiet glee as Montague run down the hall while yelling at a surprisingly high note. Montague fell onto his stomach with a quick jinx from Draco, who had to bite his lip to hold his laughter. 

The cat walked away from Montague, who ran as if being chased. The feline walked by Draco on shaking legs. Draco busted into laughter. He left his spot behind the Armor, the cat seemed dizzy by his sudden appearance. Draco crouched down, letting the ginger cat sniff his hand before scratching behind the ears. The feline's face was deep into their skull, the cat was large, with a large, bottleneck tail and yellow eyes. 

"You're not so bad, aren’t you?" Draco asked. The feline stared up at him with their knowing eyes. 

"You can't simply be a cat, there's no way you would have been able to see me with the charm on. Perhaps you're part Kneazle? Is that it?" 

The Kneazle tilted his head in response. 

"Well, what do I call you? Do you have a name?" Tilt of the head. 

"Okay, I'm going to call you Bentley," he explained. Bentley swatted at him for that, he might have to get used to his new name. 

\--------------------------

Draco stared up at the canopy of his bed. Tonight, sleep evaded him not because of nightmares, but because of his own mind working against him. 

He would see Potter soon, that would be nice. Potter with his kind eyes and warm smiles. 

Montague shouldn't be a problem, Draco had shown what would happen if Montague crossed him again. Draco wondered how many other Slytherin students share Montague's distaste for Draco. Was Draco public humiliation enough to keep his standing at Hogwarts? He might be making more enemies than allies. Allies were necessary, even in the superficial sense. 

Daphne would want to distance herself from him soon. He couldn't really blame her, he wouldn't want to marry himself. How could he expect her to? He couldn't. She would be unpredictable until he had her in his grasp. She would need an act of rebellion, Draco was determined to not face the consequences of her actions. 

Having her join the DA would be dangerous. Risking her life just to have control over her. Could Draco trust her? Daphne was smart enough to know of her situation. Manipulating her into joining the DA would be risky, would she see threw Draco? Then their relationship would be ruined beyond repair. The only person Daphne cares about is her sister, Astoria. 

Draco sighed, his web of influence didn't go very far. He couldn't get control over this situation. He would lose what little control he had, be at mercy to the Dark Lord, who was anything but merciful. 

He wondered what Potter was doing. He wondered what type of teacher Potter was. Potter was probably brilliant at teaching, but what spells was he showing the DA? Had he moved onto more advance defense spells? Perhaps Draco should show Potter what spells would be most often used against him in battle, some of them wouldn't be covered in a Hogwarts education. Draco should make a list. 

Potter would be easy to teach. He did pick up spells like some pick up stones. Not just spells, but Quidditch and friends and- 

He had to stop thinking about Potter. 

Potter with his wonderful green eyes, with his unruly hair, with his warm hands, and his pulsing broomstick- 

Draco started to list all of the steps for making Garroting Gas in his head. When he was finished with that, he moved on to Angle's Trumpet Drought then onto Moonseed Poison. He was in the middle of listing the ingredients for Jawbind Potion when he decided that the night was late enough to go the Room of Hidden Things. 

He got out of bed, putting on his dark blue cloak that brings out his eyes over his grey sleepwear. Getting dress in proper robes was too risky. Leaving his dorm and the Common Room was easy, no one was out this late. The night was heavy, as he heard crying. He usually wouldn't have investigated, but it was the sort or crying that touched your soul. The followed the sound to the girls lavatory, half expecting who was crying. He peaked in, using a listening charm to advance his hearing so he wouldn't have to enter. 

"It'll be okay, I promise, I won't let anything happen to you." 

"My life is ruined," he heard through the sobs. 

"Draco is a decent guy, he would treat you well, Daphne. Mother and Father wouldn't agree to this if he wasn't honorable," a gentle voice soothed. His stomach dropped, he shouldn't be here, this was private. He didn't move, information was key. 

"Oh, please, Astoria. They would have offered me up to anyone to save their own asses," Daphne snapped. 

"Daphne! Please," Astoria begged. 

"They should have fought for me! For us! You know what this means, right? You're going to be put on the auctioning block to be sold off to the highest bidder," Daphne cruelly reminded her. 

"I'm here for you," Astoria was so gentle with her. 

Silence. Daphne started to cry again. "I get no future. My only path is as a Malfoy, what am I supposed to do? Be his wife? Have his children? Then what? Is my only accomplishment going to be children that I never wanted with a man I never loved?" she sobbed. Astoria soothed her. 

Draco couldn't take anymore, he left into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the love of my life @halfgallonhomo on tumblr

"Is my only accomplishment going to be children that I don't want with a man that I don't love?" Daphne had said. 

'A man I don't love.' 

"I don't love." 

Love.

Love never came to Draco's mind. 

Love? How could he? How trivial. Unnecessary in his future marriage. At least he and Daphne understood each other on that. They would never love each other, care for each other, respect each other, maybe. Could he love her?

Perhaps, as a sister, as a member of his household, the mother to their children he could care for her. Could he love her romantically? No. 

Because…

Because… 

Because Draco could never love a woman romantically. 

How terribly inconvenient. 

Draco entered the Room of Hidden Things, the room had taken its usual form for him. 

"Draco!" Potter rushed to him, his smile warm. 

"I…" he checked the watch on the wall, surprised. "I didn’t think you would be here this early."

Potter shrugged, he was wearing his usual over-worn blue sleep wear. "You're always here before I am, so I figured I would get here early to surprise you," Potter explained. Draco took off his cloak, the room was pleasantly warm without the extra layer. He met Potter's smile with ease, as Potter was standing close. 

"If that's alright," Potter continued, his eyes on his feet. 

"Of course it is, I always enjoy your company," Draco comforted. Potter's eyes widened, the words having an effect on him. Draco should be embarrassed, but he couldn't find the shame within himself. Potter distracted him from himself, these meetings allowed Draco to escape from his own thoughts. Potter stayed silent, but Draco was steady in his honesty. "I don't know what I would do without you," Draco spoke. 

Potter let out a small giggle, he shifted, rubbing the back of his head, but he didn't step away. Draco could see Potter's dark skin warm under the comment. Potter bit his lip. "How very Gryffindor of you," Potter grinned. 

Draco couldn't stop smiling, "Ah, yes, well. I sometimes have my moments," he blushed. 

"I'm surprised you took that as a compliment," Potter noted. 

"Didn't you mean it as a compliment?" Draco stepped forward, Potter's eyes still held his. 

"Did I?" Potter teased. 

Draco smiled, "How very Slytherin of you," he played back. 

Potter stepped away, but didn't let Draco's gaze fall. "Yes, well, I have my moments," Potter joked, before taking his place on the couch in front of the fire. Draco followed, sitting down next to Potter. They were still close, comfortably close. Draco laid his cloak along the back of the coach, settling in against the soft pillows. 

"I was almost sorted into Slytherin," Potter stated, his knees against his chest. 

"Well, thank Merlin you weren't," Draco teased, not truly surprised. Potter always did have a streak in him that was a Slytherin, that one of the reasons why pissing Potter off was always so much fun. 

"What? Why?" Potter asked. 

"Because you would look ghastly in green," Draco commented. 

"Oh? I will let you know that green brings out my eyes," Potter corrected. 

"Potter, I'm quite sure anything would bring out your eyes," Draco accidentally complemented. 

"Really? Was that a… complement? From Draco Malfoy? You make grown men cry and weep for their mothers, yet you share a good word to me? I'm honored," Potter deadpanned. 

"You're an asshole, that's what you are Potter," Draco grumbled. 

Potter's grin only grew, "That's the Draco we all know and love." 

Draco rolled his eyes, Potter really was an asshole. Potter tilted his head in thought, giving Draco a warm look. 

"Do you think we would've been friends sooner?" Potter asked. 

"What do you mean?" 

"If I had picked Slytherin, do you think we would have been friends?" he explained. 

"Potter, we're barely friends now," he contradicted. 

"Come off it, Draco, answer the question," Potter stressed. 

Draco sighed, "I think eventually, we would have become friends. That, or we would have hated each other even more and destroyed the common room and cause poor Severus's blood pressure to rise to dangerous levels," he explained. 

Potter hummed, "Sometimes I wonder what would have changed if I were to have been sorted into Slytherin." Potter rested his chin on his knees. 

"Well, you would be a giant dick, for starters," was Draco's insight. 

Potter burst into laughter, "What does that have to say for Slytherins?" 

"Oh, shut up, not all Slytherins are pricks." 

"Name one," Potter challenged. 

"Well, me. Of course," Draco managed to say with a straight face. Potter and Draco locked eyes, before the pair started laughing. Potter gripped his stomach in his laughter, his laugh joyful and warm, cozy. Draco allowed his laughter to leave him, feeling lighter than he has all week. Potter was still laughing, Draco's chest felt as if there was a bird within his ribcage. "Perhaps I'm not the best example," he joked, causing Potter to chuckle in agreement. 

"There's a girl," Draco started, "I think you should take her in." Potter was silent, but he was listening. "She already knows about the DA, I'm not sure how she found out, but… she knows and she hasn't told anyone yet," Draco explained. "She's good, smart, she would fit into the DA easily," he finished. 

"What's her name?" Potter asked. 

"Mafalda, she's in Slytherin," Draco told Potter. Potter's lips pinched together at the information, his shoulders stiff. He would need some convincing. "She's a muggle born, she's in secound year and no one talks to her," he tried. "She stopped Montague from finding the DA today, she threw a cat at him." 

Potter grinned, "Really? Okay then, I'll think about it." 

Draco pinched his lips together, this would be the best answer he would get tonight, but he didn't like the unpredictability. 

"I promise," Potter offered. "Are you looking forward to losing to me in Quidditch? If Montague lets you play," Potter changed the subject. 

Draco shrugged, "I'm sure Montague knows better than to cross me again, but he might have someone hit the Beater into my direction." 

"Really? He would risk the game to piss you off?" Potter ask. 

"He just wants to knock me down, says I need to be taught some proper respect," Draco explained. 

Potter's noise wrinkled, "What a dick." 

"True, so if you win, just know it's because I have to also fight my own team," Draco shrugged. 

"Your whole team?" Potter asked, the concern laced in his voice. 

Draco tried to ease his concern with, "Half my team, at the most. I'm still the best Seeker in Hogwarts, so I'm not too worried about their attempts at destruction."

Potter didn't seemed to be comforted, "But why? Why would they turn against their own teammate?" 

Draco sighed, "Potter, really, you're making this a much bigger deal than it is. Montague has just decided that I'm an easy target, and he has pull with the Quidditch team, so they're probably going to pick his side, but I can handle them. I promise. Don't worry about me." 

"Why is Montague picking on you? After you made him cry in the hallway, why wouldn't he stay clear of you?" Potter investigated. 

Potter was a problem solver. Whenever one of his friends were in trouble, he had to fix the problem. Draco needed to give Potter a problem to solve. "Nobody really likes me, Potter. Especially the older students, they think I'm a little shit," he explained. 

"Well, you are," Potter chimed in. 

"Yes, I am, but not without reason," Draco agreed easily, "but recently I've stopped fighting with you publicly-"

"Oh…" Potter looked down. 

"It's not a problem, I just have to be more careful about how I carry myself. I don't want to make myself an enemy of my own house," Draco explained. 

"We just have to get into a fight, that won't be hard. We fight all the time," Potter schemed. 

The pair stayed late into the night, putting their minds together for their plan. 

 

This was not part of the plan. 

Their plan had gone to absolute shit. 

Draco supposed he went wrong when he brought the Weasley's mother into this, and the song might have too much, but Potter said no to all other forms of mocking. Plus, Draco had spent too much time writing the song to not have every Slytherin student sing along during their match. 

What he wasn't expecting was for the Slytherin team to back him up. Especially Montague, but, their he was, punching Ronald Weasley in the jaw. 

Draco had Potter in a loose head-lock, more like a hug, really, as Potter could stand fully and with ease. Potter had his arms around Draco's waist, which Draco was not thinking about. Thank you very much. 

The plan had gone to shit. 

Fred had actually punched Draco before Potter could 'fight' him. This caused Goyle, the loyal bastard, to tackle Fred with all of his might. Ronald had attempted to pull Goyle of off his brother, only to be met with Montague's shove. George shoved Montague for shoving Ronald. Crabbe took this to be his cue to punch someone, that someone being Potter, but Draco shooed him away to go punch someone else. He then punched Angela Jones, who kicked him in between the legs. Really, at this point, Draco wouldn't be surprised to see Professor McGonagall and Severus having a fist fight. 

"Did you really had to bring Ms. Weasley into this?" Potter asked from the fake head-lock Draco still had them in. 

"Probably not, I just really hate those guys," Draco motioned to the Weasley Twins, who were both tackling Goyle. 

"What about the song? Really, Draco, a song?" Potter pointed out. 

"Artistic liberties, Potter. Artistic liberties." 

"We agreed that you wouldn't do anything like the Dementor thing from third year!" Potter snapped. 

"That was costumes! This was music! They are very different," Draco argued, "now punch me in the stomach and make it look believable." 

Potter happily agreed. Draco tightened his hold on Potter in retaliation. Then he was looking up at the sky, back on the grass, head pounding from where he hit the unforgiving ground. His ribs ached, his breath stolen from his lungs and Potter out of his grasp. Ronald Weasley, the bastard, was over him, having tackled him to the ground. He was furious, mud on his uniform, a black eye to sport. His fist hit Draco with an impressive force on the lip, pain exploded from Draco's mouth, anger ripped through his ribs. 

Draco's hand found Ron's ear, his grip tight as he twisted it as his mother used to. Ron's face twisted in the sensation, both of his hands on Draco's wrist, trying to break Draco's grasp. Draco used Ron's momentum and lack of balance to yank him off of Draco's chest by the ear. Ron went to the ground, Draco still had his grip on his ear, twisting painfully. Draco released him, only to be pulled off of Ron by two strong arms on his chest. 

"It's me, it's just me," Potter whispered into his ear, his breath on Draco's neck. 

Draco twisted in Potter's arms, facing him, reaching up to grip Potter by the neck of his Quidditch Uniform. Potter stilled suddenly, his gaze heavy on Draco's face. Draco suddenly realized how close they were, close enough for Draco to feel Potter's breath on his face, close enough for Draco to count Potter's many eyelashes. 

A gentle hand on Draco's jaw caused him to flinch slightly. "You're bleeding," Potter whispered. Draco licked his bottom lip, he was bleeding from getting punched earlier. Potter's eyes followed the motion, Draco's neck warmed. He brought his hand to his lip, whipping the blood away slowly. Potter's tongue flicked across his lip as he watched the motion before returning Draco's gaze. 

Draco's body felt too warm in his uniform. He was too warm his Potter's embraced. Potter was just staring at him, a blush over his cheeks. Draco couldn't take this anymore, he quirked his eyebrows in acknowledgement of Potter's gaze. Potter's eyes widen, before he pushed Draco to the ground. 

Draco landed on his ass yet again, his mouth open in surprised. Potter looked down at his, his eyes wide, his face red. Draco tilted his head in question. Potter ran away and jumped on Montague's back in response. 

 

Draco knew himself to be a charming person. 

But he wasn't charming enough to get out of detention, so he had no idea how he managed to get out of detention. 

Well, not exactly. While the Gryffindor's were writing lines with Umbridge's quill, he and the other Slytherins had been permitted to use their own quills. 

Potter was sitting next to him in another desk, Draco didn't dare to look over at him. Potter probably hated him now, he was permitted special treatment while Potter had to watch his friends carve lines into their skin. Draco was almost positive that Potter was also given twice the amount of lines as the other Gryffindors. Plus, Potter and the Weasley twins were banned from Quidditch for life. Potter hated him. Ron definitely did, as he was kicking Draco's desk from behind.

If only Umbridge wasn't the first Professor to break up the fight. If only Umbridge wasn't a Professor at Hogwarts. Potter would have been given detention, of course, but not this abuse. Perhaps if this abuse was reported, given to the media, then maybe this would stop. 

That wouldn't work. The blame would fall on the absent Dumbledore rather than Umbridge or the Ministry, which would be counterproductive. What Potter needed was a platform, he had the name and agency. People had to know that the Dark Lord was back, the Ministry needed to get their heads out of their asses before the Dark Lord gained too much power to fight. 

Some people believed him. Some people remember how the first war began, the Ministry's concerned with the appearance of control rather than the protection of their citizens. That's how his Mother explained the First War in a hushed voice. 

If Potter had a platform, maybe his voice, his story, could carry the call to war. 

But what could Draco do? He was powerless. He had no abilities to help Potter, just has he had no say in his own marriage. He was worthless, powerless. Powerless to help Potter, powerless to help Daphne, his Mother, Father. Any move he made could be his last. He was only good for following orders, keeping his head down. Letting other people carry the burden of war and marriage. 

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," a sheer voice broke his thoughts. He looked up at Professor Umbridge, who was standing close to his desk. She was looking over his shoulder at his lines. She was so close that he could smell her sickly sweet perfume. His stomach dropped at her smell, at her smile. 

"Thank you, Professor," he smiled politely. Umbridge patted his hand gently, perhaps in a comforting matter, before continuing her walk around the classroom. He looked over at Potter, who was making faces at Umbridge behind her back. When Potter turned towards Draco, Draco made a gagging gesture while Umbridge was still turned away, much to Potter's glee. 

The kick that was supplied by Ron almost caused Draco to bite his tongue. 

"Don't you think you've cause enough trouble, Malfoy?" Ron harshly whispered behind him. 

Draco turned to Potter, rolling his eyes at Potter to make sure he knew of the trouble he caused. Potter grinned in response to Draco's suffering at Ron's hand. 

Potter didn't seem to blame Draco for getting him banned from Quidditch for life. Which is nice, Draco wasn't sure if he could handle Potter being mad at him again. Potter's anger was unfortunately awful. 

Draco continued his lines, bored as all fuck. His head hurt, his lip hurt, his ass hurt. He wondered if Potter was in any pain. His hand would hurt by now, was probably bleeding. Draco would have to make sure Potter properly applied the healing salve and wrapped the wound correctly, he always wraps the bandage too loose. Draco made sure no one tried to fight Potter whenever the Quidditch teams started to fight. However, Potter did tackle Montague, which earned him a bruise on the jaw. Merlin, Draco was destined to be a worried mother, wasn't he? 

Draco was dismissed shortly after, as were the other Slytherin students. Not without a firm word of course. The Quidditch team left Umbridge's classroom with the appropriate slump in their shoulders. No one said anything to Draco, which was just as well. The Gryffindors had to write more line than the Slytherins, Potter had been given double the lines than his teammates. 

Draco should wait for him, he wanted to see him. Make sure Potter was okay, that he wasn't angry at the outcome of their foolish game. 

He continued to dinner, his back to the classroom.

He was late for dinner, of course, but the food was still hot. Daphne sat across from him, Astoria to her right, Pansy to her left. Theo sat next to him, making conversation with one of the Carrow twins. When Draco, Crabbe and Goyal arrived from detention, they were flooded with questions about the fight. Draco, always one to take attention, gave a very detailed, slightly exaggerated, replay of the event. 

He kept an eye out for Potter, when he noticed that Potter was nowhere to be seen, he came to the conclusion that Umbridge was keeping him out past dinner as punishment. The Weasleys entered the hall without Potter, Draco supposed that Potter was meant to go without dinner. Draco started to stuff his pockets with any dry food within his reach. He would give them to Potter later. He then realized that he wasn't hungry anymore. 

Draco excused himself from the table, leaving the hall. He could use this time to study, or sulk in peace. The halls were mostly empty, his footsteps the only sounds within the halls besides the occasional student. 

He should have known Potter would have been made a target by Umbridge, she hated him. He should have known. He should have thought of a better plan that didn't include getting Potter banned from Quidditch for life. Stupid. He should have thought ahead. Stupid. He was better than this, he had to be better than this. 

But there was no way he could tell Potter no. Not with Potter looking at him so easily with so much trust in his eyes, an easy grin on his lips. He dared Draco farther, he dared Draco to be better. Potter held out his plan as if this was just a game between friends. Of course Draco was going to follow him. 

Draco would have to be more careful with Potter. If Potter asked, Draco suspected he would follow Potter to hell with his heart in his hand. Merlin, he was so fucked. 

"Draco!" a voice brought him out of his thoughts. He turned around towards the voice, Daphne, her hair flowing behind her, was hurrying towards him. 

"Daphne," he greeted, trying to keep his voice steady. 

"I was yelling at you for a while now. What's got your head in the clouds? Were you thinking about a certain someone's broomstick?" she teased with an easiness Draco wasn't expecting. Draco tried to smile, to seem normal for her, but his movements were too stiff as she bumped his shoulder with hers. He looked down at his feet, shame deep in his stomach. She probably hated him now, who wouldn't? Being forced to marry a man who didn't love you, who couldn't love you. Draco knew that with time, with the pressure of marriage, they would grow to hate each other. Draco had to gain control before Daphne snapped with the weight of her world. 

"You need to lighten up, Draco. You will lose your good looks if you keep frowning like that. Who would want to marry you then? I will let you know right now that I'm only marrying you for your looks," she formed her words almost as if they didn't taste like acid in her mouth. 

Draco took a shaking breath, he didn't know what to say to her. Daphne simply wrapped her arm in his, locking their arms together as they walked. "I…" he started, but he didn't have anything to say. 

"I know," she stopped him, her eyes bright with wetness. "Have your parents broken the news yet?" she asked. 

"No, but I'm the only one who makes sense, don't I?" he confided. 

"My Mother didn't say, she can't I assume, but she hinted as well as she could. I'm sure it's you," she agreed. 

They walked in silence closely together. Draco gave the password for the Common Room, his voice gravely. They entered in heavy silence. 

"At least our babies will be pretty," Daphne tried to break the weight between them. 

"I'm not quite sure about that. They have to worry about their mother's side of the family after all," Draco corrected with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. He earned himself a solid punch on the arm for that. 

Daphne followed Draco to the far back table without being asked. She wanted to talk. The table was tucked in the corner next to the staircase towards the girl's dorms. The table was small, only enough room for two people with a squeeze, there were no other tables or bookshelves around the table, easily making the area private for gossiping. 

Draco and Daphne sat tightly next to each other, Daphne layered enchantments around them for sure privacy from eavesdroppers. The night was too early to meet in one of the lavatories, but the Common Room and dorms were almost surely empty. Precautions, however, were always a must. 

"I think they're waiting to tell me until the break," Draco explained to Daphne. 

"My mother's letter said that the ceremony would be during break. Do you think your parents would ambush you like that?" she asked. Draco thought of his Father. He wouldn't dare argue against him, especially in person. If Draco hadn't already known, if he was surprised with a betrothal ceremony, he would be obedient. Obedient as always. 

"I think they want to tell me in person," he brushed off the accusation Daphne was implying. He would always defend his family with a knee jerk response. "Are you okay?" Draco asked stupidly. 

Daphne met his eyes. She was scared, they both were, but she was diving head first into icy depths with only Draco's word that she wouldn't drown. 

"What's he like?" she whispered, her eyes bright with tears not yet shed. 

Ice filled Draco's lungs. His words caught in his chest. He should lie, make her feel safe, but she wasn't safe. "He's terrifying," Draco finally confirmed, "He's like death himself." 

Daphne bit her lip, "I'm scared, Draco." 

Draco nodded, embracing her, carrying her fears as his own, "Me too." She gripped the back of his robe as she returned his hug. She was cracking. How long until she turned on Draco? Could Draco trust her? He couldn't be sure, the best course of action was control. Always control. 

Draco let Daphne hug him for as long as she wanted, he needed her trust. He needed to seem vulnerable, Daphne knows him, he would have to be convincing. Draco smiled gently when she pulled away. She wasn't crying, but her jaw quivered. 

"I'm so tired of crying," she smiled pathetically. 

This was his chance. "I feel so powerless," he confided, his voice breaking with the truth. "I can't do anything, I just want to do something," he whispered. 

Daphne reach for his hand. "Hey, we are all powerless here. What can we be expected to do? Any move could be our last," she comforted.

"I want to do something," he baited. 

Daphne nodded, "I'm tired of feeling like I can't control my own life," she agreed. 

"Like I'm too young to make my own decisions," he tried. 

"Like my way is already decided without me," she ranted. 

"I have no say in what I do," he said. 

"I want to fight," she confided. Draco stopped, seeming shock by her words. She had taken the bait. Daphne started at him, her own words sinking in. She opened her mouth, before swallowing her apologies. "I will fight," she proclaimed, she seemed shocked by the fire within her. The fire that Draco stoked. 

Daphne's eyes showed the fire within her as she glared at Draco. Daring him to speak against her, daring him to lecture her on the dangers for the both of them. Not aware that this was exactly what Draco wanted. 

"How?" Draco asked innocently. His eyes wide in pretend shock. He watched as Daphne's mind worked through her options, she would come to the same conclusion as Draco. He was sure. 

"What did Potter say about letting in Slytherin students?" she asked Draco. 

"Daphne, no! He agreed to let in Mafalda, but she's the exception," he lied with ease, "Daphne, please, it's too-" 

"Don’t lecture me!" she demanded, "I know the danger, Draco. I'm not stupid!" 

Draco allowed himself to be stunned into silence. "I can't be involved," he spoke quietly, "Don't rely on me to make any introductions." 

Daphne huffed, "No, I wouldn't expect you to get your hands dirty." 

She made to leave, but Draco couldn't let this further weigh on their relationship. Draco stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. "I think you're very brave," he complimented with the truth on his tongue. Daphne took his hand, with a squeeze, she left to the dormitories. 

 

They didn't agree to meet tonight, but Draco rose from his bed anyway. He grabbed his cloak he had laid out on his trunk earlier, slipping his shoes on and leaving the dorm as quietly as he could. He made sure to also bring his bag, which had healing potions Potter might need as well as his dinner that Draco managed to grab from the Great Hall.

No one was in the silent Common Room. Leaving the Common Room and slipping into the dark, silent dungeons was easy. The walk to the Room of Hidden Things was an uneventful one, but a chill had taken hold of Draco's bones. Draco was sure his uneasiness had nothing to do with the temperature. 

The warmth on he room greeted him as the door opened with ease. The fire was burning bright in front of the couch that had taken on an orange color tonight. The room had left out the chairs, Draco supposed that he and Potter didn't really need them anymore. 

He took a seat in the middle of the couch, letting his muscles relax by the warmth of the fire. He laid his cloak along the back of the couch, putting his bag on the side table beside the couch. How long should he wait for Potter? They didn't say they would meet tonight, but Draco just wanted to be sure. 

Draco was an idiot. Why would Potter come here? He had Granger to heal his hand, why would he need Draco. He should just leave, he wasn't needed, so he wasn't wanted. 

But what if Potter did come by and Draco wasn't there? Would Potter assume that Draco didn't want to talk to him? Would Potter get angry with him? 

Draco needed a distraction. 

A book appeared on the table. Draco opened the book hurriedly, not bothering to look at the title or subject. The book was over potions theory, but Draco could have sworn he read this over complicated text before. Upon inspection of the title, the novel was, in fact, the same textbook that he had been trying to understand for almost a month now. Stupid Room. 

Draco read until his head hurt and his gaze blurred. The Room wouldn't supply him another text. He didn't know what he did to deserve such horrid treatment. Did he speak badly about the Room? Did he hurt the Room's feelings? Was the Room sentient enough to mind when Draco burns it to the ground for such awful treatment against him? 

A noise behind him made him turn. Potter just entered, Draco hurried to meet him, the book long forgotten. Potter startled at the sight of him, hurryingly taking off his cloak and bundling the cloth under his arm. Potter looked down at his feet. Even in the dim light Draco could tell that he had been crying, his eyes were red with dark spots underneath them. His hand was loosely wrapped in a bloody bandage. Draco's excitement quickly turned to concern. 

"Draco, I didn't think you would be here," Potter mumbled at his feet, scratching the back of his head. 

Draco's heart sank to his stomach. "Oh, I'll just leave," Draco turned to grab his things. 

"Draco-" 

"I noticed that you weren't at dinner, so I grabbed a few things. If you're hungry," Draco didn't let him finish. 

"Thanks, Draco, but-"

"And I brought new bandages, you need to wrap that tighter. But first use this potion on the wound," he lectured. He took the things out of his bag, but he couldn't dare look at Potter. 

"Draco," Potter gripped Draco's wrist gently, Draco's heart slammed in his chest, "I'm glad you're here." 

Merlin, Potter's eyes were so green. Draco swallowed, "Well, who else would bandage you up? Really, Potter, you must be Madam Pomphrey's least favorite student." 

Potter grinned, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. They sat on the couch, Draco started to care for Potter's hand, and his bruised face, and his shoulder 'because it's a little sore, if you can look at that'. 

Conversation didn't come as comfortably as usual. Potter was stiff, but he seemed like he was trying to talk with ease. Draco allowed them to drift into silence, a tension that wasn't their yesterday. 

Draco ignored the sights of a family being murdered, the screams echoing within his skull, the blood on his hands. He wrapped and healed Potter's hand as well as he could, but there will be a scar. 

"If you're mad at me, you have to tell me, I'm shit at this sort of stuff," Draco broke the silence. 

"Shit at what? Relationships?" Potter snapped. 

"Yes. Potter, relationships. I don't have many," Draco snapped back. 

"Really? I bet that Daphne Greenglass would say something else," Potter argued. 

Draco tried to keep his voice steady against the pounding in his ears. "Daphne? What does she have to do with anything?" he confronted. 

"I saw you in the halls together. You make a nice couple," Potter countered. 

No. Potter couldn't already know, how could he? "Why does it matter if Daphne and I date?" Draco implored. 

Potter blinked, looking down. "It…it doesn't," he muttered. 

"Potter, I'm not dating Daphne," Draco offered. 

Potter looked up at him, Draco gripped his hand gently. "Really?" Potter investigated. 

Draco nodded with a grin, "Really, we're just friends. Our families are close," he answered. 

Potter relaxed, but he still had a tension in his shoulders, had a tiredness in his eyes. Draco tried to lighten the mood with, "Besides, I'm not exactly popular with the girls."

Potter rolled his eyes, "Oh please, the first time I tried to talk to the girl I liked, I was covered in Stinksap. I'm sure you're doing fine."

"Really? You like a girl?" Draco teased. 

"Yeah? Who else would I like?" Potter retorted. 

"A boy?" the words are out of his mouth before he could stop them. Fuck. Shit. He needed to sew his mouth shut. 

"A boy?" Potter asked, his eyes wide. 

Draco shrugged, his face red. "It could happen," he looked down at his hands. 

"Umm… I'm okay…" Potter answered. 

"I know you're okay," he defended himself, "stop changing the subject. Who's the girl?"

"No one," Potter squeaked. 

"Potter!" he whined. 

"It's no one!" Potter blurted. 

"Who managed to seduce the great Harry Potter?" Draco teased. 

"Cho Chang," Potter answered. 

Draco hummed, a twitch of jealously within the excitement of earning Potter's trust. "She's very pretty." She also has a fuck ton of baggage, he didn't say. 

"Yeah," Potter sighed, "Do you think she knows I exist?" 

Draco laughed painfully, "Potter, everyone knows of your existence." 

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter joked. 

"Just talk to her, if she likes you she'll flirt, take it from there," Draco supplied. 

Potter nodded, his smile still not meeting his eyes. 

"Potter…what's wrong?" Draco asked cautiously. 

Potter's pathetic smile pained him. "It's nothing," Potter answered. 

"Potter," Draco wouldn't let go. 

"I'm not sleeping very well," was the short answer. 

"I'll make you a sleeping potion then," Draco answered. 

"No, it's okay," Potter dismissed. 

"Merlin, Potter, just take my fucking help," he argued. 

"Draco, back off," Potter snapped. 

"Just tell me what's wrong? What is it? Nightmares? Your problems aren't that unique, I can help you," Draco proclaimed. 

"It's not just nightmares! It's-" Potter reached for his scar subconsciously, the movement was stopped as Potter froze. The weight of the scar on his forehead, how this could affect them, sending chills down both of their spines. "He's in my head," Potter whispered. "I've tried to tell Dumbledore, but he won't talk to me. I don't know why. I'm-" Potter gasped painfully, "I'm scared." 

Ice wrapped around Draco. Fear froze his heart. Water in his lungs. Claws down his back. He couldn't breathe. 

What was he supposed to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are seen and are deeply appreciated!!!
> 
> Follow me @CarpeBellum on tumblr.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by @halfgallonhomo on tumblr 
> 
> Warning: Non graphic depictions of torture and graphic depictions of attempted suicide.

Draco's heart was painfully loud in his chest. The sensation grounded him against the frozen feeling all around him. Draco was drowning, cold water filled his lungs, his vocal cords were frozen. He opened his mouth to speak. Potter looked so warm in the firelight. His dark skin seemed to soak in the warmth from the fire. His eyes were bright with worry, the raw, steady fear within Potter's eyes, his soul, made Draco want to reach out to him.

He should say something, Potter was scared. He looked as if he was about to cry. He looked as if he needed Draco. Draco's mouth was still open, he snapped his jaw shut with a painful clench in his neck. 

The lines were blurring. He could possibly perform all the parts asked of him, required of him. How was he supposed to comfort Potter, to help him? Reaching out to Potter would be like reaching for the sun while being sucked into hell. 

"What do you mean?" his voice was full of gravel. Talking to Potter was like falling. 

"I…he's…Draco, you don't want to know this," Potter shook his head. 

"Potter…"

"Draco." 

"Let me help you," he whispered. The words warmed his lips and felt like smooth apple cider slipping down his throat to warm his ribs, his stomach and toes. He wanted to help Potter, he would allow himself to do this. 

Potter swallowed. He looked down at his hands. "He's in my head," Potter repeated. 

"How? What does that mean?" Draco investigated against the warning in his ribs. 

"We… have a connection," Potter started. "I think it's because of the-" he motioned to the scar on his forehead that was more of a brand- "I can see into his thoughts, I feel his emotions. They seep into my nightmares, so I don't sleep much." 

"Is the connection one way?" Draco asked, fear laced his voice, which was badly covered with concern. 

"No, I don't think so, at least," Potter explained.

Draco nodded, his stomach twisting, claws ran down his back, "Have you told anyone else? Granger? Perhaps McGonagall?" he randomly guessed. He was grasping at straws. 

Potter rubbed his brow. "Dumbledore knows, but…" Potter bit his lip. 

"But…?" Draco prompted. 

"But he has better things to worry about, he doesn't have time for me," Potter dismissed. 

"Have you reached out to-" 

"Just drop it, Malfoy," Potter snapped with venom. 

Draco swallowed his shock passed the lump in his throat. 

"I'm sorry," Potter apologized after a pause. 

"You're scared, don't worry about it," Draco forgave instantly. 

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't snap at you," Potter insisted, "I just don't know what to do." 

"We'll just… have to make a plan now, won't we?" Draco shrugged. 

"Draco, you shouldn't get involve," Potter protested. 

"Potter, you're not in any position to argue," was the dismissal. "Tell me everything, let's see what we can come up with when we put our heads together." 

 

"Crucio!"

Draco screamed. He never could imagine this pain was possible. He was on fire, yet he was freezing. He bones were shattering, but were also too heavy for his body. 

The spell stopped. There was pain, then there was no pain, but Draco knew the cycle would start again. He laid in the dirt, long beyond caring about anything but the shedding in his bones. 

He spit out the blood in his mouth from when he had bit his tongue earlier. How long had they been at this? Hours, days, weeks? Sunlight shined in from the window high above them. Was it morning or late afternoon? Pain was pain and more pain. He didn't beg anymore. He couldn't. He knew begging was useless, when he earned his freedom he would be released. Whenever he met this impossible standard. 

How could he? His mind was a puddle of stray thoughts, Occlumency was useless on him because he had no thoughts to cling to. Why was this necessary? 

"Crucio." 

Draco's mind was ripped to shreds by the pain, but he focused on the pain. He let the pain consume his mind, his walls were only strengthen by the focus point. 

He spit out more blood onto the dirt floor after the spell stopped. He looked up at the figure before him, her blond hair shown as a halo around her head as the sunshine shone through the window. Her grey eyes were cold as ever. Draco had her eyes, people always told him. 

"Mother, please-" 

"Crucio." 

This time, his mother didn't hesitate to reach right into his mind for his most recent memory. She pulled the memory from his mind with frightening accuracy. 

_Blood. Screams. Fear. The only true fear Draco had ever felt as he watched a family be murdered._

_Draco returning to a house that no longer was his home. His home was a shell of what they once were, just as his parents were becoming shells of what they were before. Before their Lord that was supposed to be their savoir returned to their lives and started to smother the life out of them._

_A cold hand on the back of his neck. The hand of the Dark Lord. Draco could feel the coils of his Lord seep at the edges of his mind._

_All he felt was fear, raw fear._

_There was a look in his parent's eyes, before, Draco wouldn't be able to place the look, the glint. Draco recognized the look now; terror. Terror that seeped into your bones and became a part of you._

_He heard their screams, saw their blood. He did nothing, while they were begging for their lives, he watched. Watched as the life left their eyes. A child, he witnessed the death of two children while he lost his own childhood._

_Death Eaters laughing. All while a muggle family was met with power that they didn't understand, for no other reason than the thirst for blood._

Pain, so much pain. The taste of blood and dirt in his mouth. His back arching, twisting, twitching painfully. 

_"He did very well today," his Lord answered his parents, dismissing him._

_He locked himself into his room. Shaking. He was sure he would never stop trembling. He didn't make a move to turn on any lights, the darkness of the room allowed him to avoid his thoughts. The only light was the moon shining dimly though the window. After his eyes adjusted, he made his way to the lavatory attached to his room._

No. No. He couldn't let his mother see this. He reached out for the memory, but by doing so he released the wall that had been built by the pain he was going through. 

His Mother gripped the memory, she was going to see. There was nothing Draco could do now. 

_He turned on the light, the bright, harshly pale light burned his eyes. That could also be from the tears that have almost spilt._

_He turned on the water to the deep claw-foot tub before undressing. He wished there was blood, or dirt, or some form of filth for his to wash off. He felt dirty. There was an itch to his skin, his bones. The water steamed quickly, as Draco made the water as hot as possible._

_The steam clung to his skin stickily. He left his black robes on the floor as he dipped himself into the bath that was not even half way full yet. The painfully hot water pricked his skin. His pale skin turned red against the hot water. His body hurt, but he stayed in the tub. He deserved more, he deserved worst. He was filth. He couldn't get clean._

_His hair clung to his neck from the steam. The bath was half way full. What should he do? What could he do? The Dark Lord had been seeping into his mind, he would know that he was weak, that he was nothing. He was going to die no better than the children he witnessed be killed not a hour ago._

_He turned off the water. The water was so hot against his skin. There was a pinkness to his skin he could see through the crystal clear water._

_Wasn't there an easier way? He laid back into the heat of the water. His parents couldn't help him, they didn’t protect him from witnessing the death of an entire family._

_The water covered his ears. The heat tickled his sculp as he felt his hair fan out in the water. The steam caused his face to flush._

Draco clawed at the memory weakly, his Mother gripped his mind tighter, making him reply the events of that night to her.

_Merlin, the water was too hot._

_He inhaled, exhaled. He enjoyed the feeling of breathing. Inhale. Exhale. He gripped the edges of the tub. The edges were slippery with steam._

_Inhale, deep this time._

_Exhale._

"Mother, please," he sobbed. 

She didn't.

_He dipped below the water._

_The instant protest within his lungs didn't surprise him. He could do this. He could never be rid of the filth within his heart._

_He wished the water wasn't so hot._

_Would his parents cry?_

_Yes._

_He gripped the edges tighter, trying to fight his instincts to sit up._

_Panic came with the need for air. His vision blurred. He started to cough, his lungs filling with hot water._

_He broke the surface quickly after that, he leaned against the edge of the tub. His throat hurt, his lungs hurt._

_He started to cry. He placed a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. The tears were cold against his hot face. He was useless. He couldn't do anything._

_He brought his knees against his chest as he placed his check against the side of the tub. His breath slowed. He closed his eyes as his sobs stopped but his tears continued._

_He felt nothing. He focused on the tiredness within his bones to ground himself. His chest hurt, but not from the lack of air._

_He stared at the white tile. The steam cooled, Draco's hair dried wavy from the steam. The boiling water cooled to lukewarm, then to cold. Draco stayed, he couldn't be bothered to move. His head hurt from crying. His lungs hurt from the water._

His Mother finally released his mind. Draco curled in on himself as he thought about how last night continued. 

He had finally stepped out of the cold water. He wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out into his room. 

His mother was there, told him to dress and meet her outside. He did as he was told. She had apparated them to one of their unused properties in the country. 

The property was one of the least luxurious that was in the Malfoy name, but his mother had grown fond of the simple house, so in the Malfoy name the land remained. 

Draco hadn't bothered asking why they were there, he wasn't yet capable of imagining the terror his own mother could inflict on her son. She led him to the basement, and he followed her with ease through the dusty, dark house.

She had lit the lamps along the wall of the narrow basement with a flick of her wand. The basement was empty, a dirt floor, brick walls. One window near the ceiling, the glass was dirty. The moon light barely shown through. 

Draco watched as his mother circled him. Her green dress dirtying from the floor, but she didn't seem to care. 

"Mother? What-" he started to ask. 

"You are familiar with occlumency, correct?" his mother interrupted. 

"Yes, Severus taught me. Why are we here?" he inclined. 

"To see how well he taught you," she stopped in front of him, raising her wand. 

"I don’t have my wand," he pointed out.

"You know you shouldn't need a wand if you are blocking your mind correctly," she waved her wand harshly in Draco's direction. He blocked her attacks with the strength of his mind, no wand needed. 

She nodded briskly, her jaw tensing. "Good, you have a very strong defense. We just need to strengthen it." 

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, confusion laced in his voice. 

"Crucio." 

 

The business of the Great Hall distracted Draco from his lack of sleep. The tiredness that now pressed into the back of his skull. He had to make sure to get some sleep tonight, he had to be prepared to help Potter. He had to be prepared to put their plan in action. 

Hopefully this plan goes better than the last one. 

This was a stupid plan, Draco was in no shape for this. His nerves were too raw, he was too sharp. He had to calm down, or this could be so very dangerous. They were playing with sharp, dangerous boundaries. 

In all honesty, Draco wanted to run. The instinct to run was one that twisted in his lower spine. Potter, with his trusting eyes and easy smiles, made him stay to help. Fuck the danger. Draco was willing to, stupidly, so painfully stupidly, help him. Help Potter. Go against his family. Go against his Lord. 

The toast tasted like ash in his mouth, but he ate anyway. Pushing for Pansy to also eat, who sat across from him. Daphne sat next to him, but she was quiet in what Draco assumed to be contemplation. 

Owls flew into the Hall, the morning light shining in behind them as they gave the messages they were carrying. Potter's owl circled where he normally sits, but eventually left. Potter wasn't in breakfast yet, which was unusual. 

No mail came for Daphne, but her sister Astoria received a message from the family owl. Pansy hadn't gotten an owl for weeks now, not that you could tell if you didn't pay close attention, but Draco was constantly observant. 

When a letter dropped for Pansy, Draco instantly tensed. The lettering was definitely Pansy's mother, this could not be good. Pansy didn't receive any letters, but she didn't send any either. Her mother would only begin communications if the news was dire. Pansy must have known this, as she just stared at the envelope. Draco reached for her hand, but Pansy snatched the letter quickly. She didn't open the letter, just stuffed the message into her robe pocket. She continued to eat her toast with a slump in her shoulders. Daphne took her hand, Pansy didn't look up. 

His usual house owl not only dropped the usual Daily Profit, which Daphne grabbed before he could even look at the cross words, but also a letter from his mother. His jaw clenched. He hadn't received a letter in almost a month now. 

My Dearest Draco, 

I hear that your studies are going well. You have always rose to the expectations we have set for you. This winter be prepared to rise above even our sights to be the man you're expected to be. 

Your father is well, although his knee has been acting up more so with the recent weather. 

Send my regards to Ms. Parkinson for her lost, my thoughts are with her during this struggle and the ones upcoming. 

The Greenglass family is a noble family, and your father and I, with the suggestion of our closest friends, have decided to host their family during the winter. I know that you and their eldest daughter will get along well. I can imagine that she will look beautiful against the white of the snow. 

My hopes are with you now and always,   
Mother. 

His mother was never one to be subtle. 

Daphne stiffened beside him. The message was as clear to her as it was to him. Really, this was just a confirmation of their suspicions. Their betrothal ceremony would be over the winter break, in a little over a month. 

Draco continued to eat his breakfast. Daphne sat quietly beside him, reading the paper. His impending engagement didn't send any particular emotion through him. What did worry him was these expectations they have of him. What his Lord expected of him. 

His father's knee was an old injury from the First War, news about such was unnecessary. Was his father in danger? His mother was warning him, but about what exactly? 

What struggles would Pansy go through? Was the Dark Lord going to punish her for her father's wrongdoings? Hasn't she suffered enough? 

Should Draco warn her? What were the dangers he was warning her of? Pansy had only recently started eating again, teasing him again. There was such a fragile sense to her strength, if he dropped her, he was afraid she would shatter. 

What could he do? Nothing. He was good for nothing. He was unless. 

He watched over his breakfast as Potter entered the Great Hall with Mafalda. Potter scanned the Slytherin table before finding him with his eyes, he met his eyes with a nod. At least something is going the way Draco wanted. 

Just behind Potter entered Theo and Blaise. This wasn't what Draco wanted. Everyone watched from the table as the two separated. Blaise took his seat by Bulstrode, followed by Mafalda. Theo walked to their usual sitting place, before sitting down on the empty seat by Draco's side. 

Draco just stared at him. Theo innocently ate toast off of Draco's plate. Draco continued to frown, which he was met with Theo's, seemingly innocent, blue eyes. 

"So…I guess Draco's not the only one thinking about a pulsing broomstick," Pansy broke the silence. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Theo shrugged.

"Yes, I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about either," Draco warned coldly, giving her his sharp grey eyes. 

"Just know that you won't always have Draco to hide behind, Theo," Daphne warned over Draco. 

Theo uncharacteristically bristled, "I don't have my mother's skirts to hide behind either, but thanks for the reminder." 

Draco sighed, they were going to be the death of him. 

"I'm trying to help you, asshole," Daphne snapped. 

"Stating the obvious isn't helping," Theo argued. 

"The fact that you're being obvious needs help," she pointed out. 

"Oh really? And what gives you the right to lecture me? What exactly gives you the right to tell me what to do? How are you in anyway better than me?" 

Daphne froze. 

"No more," Draco interrupted, "We're not turning on each other." 

"We can't turn on each other if it's already every man for himself," spoke Pansy. 

Draco puffed out his checks, blowing air out through them. "I've got to go," he said, and dismissed himself with all of his social graces. 

"Where are you going?" Daphne asked. 

Draco turned to answer, but he was interrupted by Theo's, "What are you, his wife?" 

Draco didn't stay to stop whatever Daphne was going to do to Theo. Instead, he continued his way to Professor Umbridge's classroom. The pair of them had a continuous early morning tea arrangement, an arrangement in the sense that whenever she asks for Draco's presence he showed. He did have her ear, though, which was imperative to staying updated in the news of both the Ministry and Hogwarts. No one else was going to tell him, despite his mother's insistent attitude on making sure he is well prepared.

Draco knocked politely on the door to the Frog-Bitch's lair. 

"Come in," a sweetly voice answered him. 

Draco entered the room that was thick with an artificial floral smell that laced the back of his throat. Professor Umbridge sat behind her pink seat in her pink suit with a pink hat, that, surprisingly, included pink feathers. 

"Good morning, Professor. Is that a new perfume?" Draco asked with all of his charm, walking across the small office. 

"Why, yes, Malfoy. It is. Thank you for noticing," Umbridge smiled primly. 

It's hard not to, Draco didn't say. Instead, he waited for the cue to be allowed to sit, as all his social graces demanded. 

"My apologies, please, sit," Umbridge motioned towards the pink chair across from her pink desk. Draco took his place. "Tea?" Umbridge offered, as she raised her wand to the tea set, pink, that laid on a table, pink, across the room. 

"Oh, please allow me," Draco insisted, rising from his seat instead of using magic. He carried the tray, pink, over to the desk before placing the tray on the desk. "Now, would you prefer six sugars or ten?" he doted, his teeth hurting. 

"Ten," Umbridge answered. Draco obliged her, pouring the tea with cream and ten, pink, sugars into her, pink, teacup before handing her the too sweet drink. He then poured himself his own cup, with one sugar. 

"Malfoy, as always, your manners are impeccable," she complemented. 

"I have only my mother to thanks, you know how pure blooded mothers are," he grinned. 

"Ah, yes. Quite strict," Umbridge bristled at her own lie. 

"Only for our sake," Draco continued to Umbridge's agreement. "I was hoping to apologize to you for my behavior last week, Professor," he started. "I was out of line, and I reflected badly onto you, I'm sorry," he apologized. 

"I accept your apology, Malfoy, I'm sure a young man like yourself would never act unmotivated," she dismissed. 

"No Professor, of course not. I just cannot bare to listen to Potter talk badly about our Ministry," he baited. 

Umbridge instantly started to shake her head, "That Potter, speaking so horribly, as if our Ministry was just plain incompetent." 

"The Ministry is the highest order, he should be honored that the Ministry as finally decided to step in at Hogwarts," Draco gossiped. 

"Exactly, Merlin knows how your education was before," Umbridge agreed. 

"For Merlin, we even had a werewolf teach us one year. Dumbledore allowed a werewolf near children," Draco continued. 

"How horrid!" Umbridge gasped at the old news. 

Draco nodded, "Yes, thankfully my father managed to use his influence at the Ministry to intervein before a student was hurt." 

"How is your father?" Umbridge asked. 

"Very well," was Draco's answer, "he has been spending a lot of time at work." 

"Yes, well, a man with such standing as your father must be very busy," Umbridge complemented. 

"Of course, but you would know all about that, being a woman of your standing," Draco baited, "I'm quite sure the Minister of Magic wouldn't entrust you with such an important job without you being beyond qualified."

Umbridge smiled at Draco's statement. "Yes well, I only wished I could do more," Umbridge answered. 

"Do more? What could you possibly do?" Draco intrigued. 

"Oh, so many things. I am very concerned for the education here at Hogwarts. I only wished that I had less obstacles so that I could properly modify what I see fit," Umbridge told him. 

"Obstacles? Who would dare?" Draco gasped. 

"Dumbledore, of course, but he has always had his hands bloody in politics. He actually has the games keeper, the giant one that lives in the hut, teaching this year. How is a games keeper, one with no formal education, qualified to teach?" 

"Really? I haven't had any classes with him this year," Draco inquired. 

"Apparently, Dumbledore had him visiting the giant settlements," Umbridge happily shared her information. 

"Really? And what does the Minister of Magic have to say about that?" Draco furthered her gossip. 

"Really, Malfoy, you're awful. You know I can't share Ministry secrets," Umbridge dismissed, "but I will tell you that if Dumbledore doesn't get his act together soon, someone will be in for a promotion."

"As they should be," Draco lied. His head already swarming with the new information.

The pair continued their gossiping about the teachers at Hogwarts and the news of the Ministry. Draco played a game while Umbridge talked on and on, he counted the objects in the office that were not pink. He counted only the fireplace and the glass of the windows. 

He was debating if he should count the Floo Powder in a pink vase, but he was sure she only had the green powder because she had no choice. Should he count the powder? It wasn't because of lack of trying, if Umbridge wanted pink glass, she would, but there was no such thing as pink Floo Powder. 

"You should hurry along to class, Malfoy," Umbridge dismissed to Draco's glee. He tried not to seem too hurried.

The heavy scent of Umbridge's perfume had seeped into Draco's skin, he had a stench about him now. Pansy sat as far away from he as possible. Daphne just turned around and walked away from him. Theo pretended to gag anytime Draco stood too close to him. This went on all day, even though he was sure the smell had left.

Draco was thankful whenever he was able to be outside for his Care of Magical Creatures class, maybe the fresh air would rid him of Umbridge's scent that supposedly was still on him. The air was cool, fresh. Theo walked with him, not too close of course. Blaise met them outside of Hagrid's hut, he stood with them while Hagrid lectured about Thestrals. 

Potter was there, standing with Granger and Weasley. Draco tried not to think about what they were going to do, the dangers of their plan. Hagrid led his class into the woods, lecturing on the mysterious creatures. When the class arrived to a clearing surrounded by forest, he pulled out large pieces of meat from his bag. 

Draco heard them before he saw them. A snap of twig behind him, he turned only to be met with a giant, horse-like creature. His gasp quieted the class, everyone turned to him, but he only looked at the creature. 

There was a beauty to the Thestrals, they filed into the clearing. It seemed as if they were there to carry Draco away to Death. The one standing right behind him gently noised his chest, Draco laid his hand on their snout. The skin was surprisingly smooth, like worn leather. 

"That's amazing, Draco," he heard Potter speak next to him. Potter started to pet the neck of the Thestral, he grinned at Draco. Draco's heart started to beat faster. 

"Well done boys," Hagrid held out a raw piece of meat to the creature, the Thestral took the meal happily. Draco turned to Theo and Blaise, the pair were standing close together, but they stayed clear of the large horse creatures. The other class members were looking at him and Potter, but not the Thestral, or any of the Thestrals. 

"Why are they staring at us?" Draco asked Potter. 

"Weren't you paying attention? Only those who've seen death can see Thestrals," Potter lectured.

Draco's stomach dropped, "Oh." 

Hagrid continued to lecture his class, but Draco stayed with his Thestral. Potter stood next to him, grinning whenever the animal tried to eat Draco's neck collar. 

The class was ruined whenever Umbridge arrived for Hagrid's observation. Draco stepped away from Potter, taking his place next to Theo and Blaise. Umbridge questioned Hagrid on everything. Draco wasn't particularly fond of Hagrid, but Umbridge's criticism was painful to watch. 

"And who can see these creatures? What good is teaching students about a creature that they can't see?" Umbridge demanded, she managed to intimidate Hagrid despite the fact that she barely came up to his waist. 

"Well, Harry and Malfoy can, for starters," Hagrid explained. 

"Really?" Umbridge turned to Draco, her eyes focusing on him. "Malfoy, is that true? You can see these monsters?" she investigated. 

"Yes, Professor," Draco answered, his stomach turning in on him as everyone's attention was on him. 

"And who have you seen died?" Umbridge asked bluntly. 

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it. "I…um…" he stuttered dumbly. 

"I can see them," Theo saved him, "my Mom died."

Silence. 

"Ah, well," Umbridge made her marks on her clipboard before moving on.

"Thanks," Draco whispered to Theo when Umbridge had left them. 

"Don't mention it," Theo grinned. 

"They're awfully hideous, aren't they?" Blaise asked. 

"You can see them?" Theo asked him.

Blaise clenched his jaw, "Obviously."

Theo dropped the subject, his silence carried volumes. 

"I think they're majestic," Draco commented. 

"Really? An omen of death and despair; majestic? A little too depressing, even for me," Theo teased. 

"Well, isn't Draco an omen of death and despair himself? I think it’s fitting," Blaise joked. 

Blaise hadn't really meant the comment, but Draco could feel the meaning deep within him. He laughed at the joke for appearances, but the laughter felt forced even to him. 

Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco's discomfort, "Merlin, Malfoy, take a joke." 

Draco forced his jaw to unclench, but the meaning he still carried in his chest. Theo shifted beside him, sending a glare to Blaise who was standing on the opposite side of Draco. Blaise responded with a general shrug, which Theo gave an exaggerated glace toward Draco. Blaise made a vague humming noise in which Theo just sighed loudly at. Draco rolled his eyes, giving them both a glare for their lack of subtilty. 

"Sorry," Blaise and Theo mumbled simultaneously. 

 

Draco entered the Room of Hidden Things. He had arrived early, as he couldn't sleep. He was surprised to find Potter already there. Potter rose from the couch that was placed in front of the fireplace. He was dressed in Muggle jeans and a simple green jumper that brought out his eyes. Draco was also in day robes, pajamas seemed too intimate for what they were about to do. 

"It's not 'same place, same time,' if we're both early," Potter greeted, he rubbed his hands on his pants. Potter was nervous. 

"I have to set up, Potter, so I have a reason, at least," Draco teased, trying to calm Potter down. 

"Set up? Set up what? Why do you have to set up?" Potter tensed, he started to play with one of his sweater sleeves nervously. 

Draco sighed, this wouldn't work if Potter was worried. "Come on, help me with this," Draco motioned for Potter to follow him to a table that appeared behind the couch. The Room changed around them has Draco imagined exactly what he needed for tonight. Draco laid his bookbag on the waist-tall wood table, then started to pull the objects out of his bag that had been expanded with an Extension Charm. Potter stood next to him, setting the objects in a more organized manner, although Draco hadn't truly needed help. 

"How'd you like Professor Hagrid's class today?" Draco tried to start conversation between them. 

"It was brilliant, really, except for Umbridge," Potter answered with ease. 

Draco hummed in agreement, rearranging the potion bottles to his liking. He had to reach over in front of Potter to do so, but Potter didn't move out of his space. Draco didn't either. 

"So…you can see them?" Potter asked, he was so close that Draco could feel his breath on his face. 

"Yeah," Draco answered quietly. 

"Draco, I-" 

"We should start," Draco interrupted him. 

Potter bit his lip, looked down at his feet. "Um, sure. What's all this for?" he asked, motioning to the objects on the table. 

"Just in case," Draco answered. 

"Just in case of what?" Potter investigated. 

"Occlumency is a delicate magic, unlike anything you've studied before. It's ancient and complicated, but most importantly, it’s flexible," Draco lectured. He walked around the table, taking a seat on the couch. Potter sat down next to him.

"You have to protect your mind from the Dark Lord, the best way to begin is to clear your mind," Draco instructed.

"Clear my mind?" Potter repeated. 

"Yes, the instruction was clear," Draco stated. 

"How?" Potter asked. 

"You don't think of anything," was Draco's response. 

"How am I supposed to not think of anything?" Potter retorted. 

"By- oh, never mind. Let's start from somewhere else," Draco compromised. 

"No, I want to learn," Potter argued. 

"Well, obviously you don't," Draco snapped. 

"Fuck you, this was a bad idea," Potter stood from the couch. 

"Potter, stop, just… tell me what's bothering you," Draco reached for Potter, taking his wrist. "This isn't going to work out if we don't trust each other." 

Potter looked down at him, Draco's heart rose to his throat. Draco looked up at Potter, the fire behind him provided an warm glow between them. "What isn't going to work?" Potter whispered, so quietly that Draco wasn't quite sure if he heard him correctly. 

Draco swallowed. Potter's hand slowly turned in Draco's, Draco was about to let go when he felt Potter's hand gently encircling his. Draco stared at the hands, at what they meant. 

"Tell me what's bothering you," Draco avoided the question. 

Potter's jaw tensed as he looked away from Draco. "How can you be okay with this?" Potter asked. 

"Okay with what?" Draco investigated.

"Me, how can you be okay with being with me?" Potter rushed, his hand tightening over Draco's. 

Draco strengthened his hold on Potter. This, them, wasn't going to work without honesty and trust. Draco should be honest with Potter. "Sit down," Draco pleaded. 

Potter took his seat next to him, still holding his hand. Draco looked at him, Potter was quite stunning. He was almost pretty, with his long dark eyelashes framing his bright green eyes. They were close enough that their shoulders brushed against each other. 

"You're the best friend I've ever had," Draco told him, "and I want to help you." Potter swallowed, his breath fanning against Draco's face. Draco leaned in, enough to know that Potter would only look at him, only see him. 

"So let me," Draco whispered. Potter nodded. Merlin, they were so close. Potter wasn't pulling away, if Draco just leaned in-

Draco pulled away, rising from the couch. His chest was hot with the closeness they just shared. He turned to Potter, raising his wand. 

 

"Guess what I heard about Montague today," Potter baited with a grin. 

"Do tell."

Potter shrugged, "What do I get out of it?" he teased. 

Draco rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand while he face Potter, who was lying on his back. "Potter, how could you? You know I can't resist gossip," he fake gasped, an exaggerated hand on his chest. 

Potter laughed, the lesson had tired them both out. The pair laid in front of the fireplace, the warmth basking both of them. Draco watched as Potter laughed, Potter had done well tonight. Draco could only hope that it was enough. The lesson had ended by Potter rolling to the floor and staying there until Draco joined him, which is the only way he would ever lay on the floor. 

"What do you want?" Draco prompted his friend. 

Potter shrugged, playing with his sweater sleeve again. Draco moved closer to Potter, wanting to be in his presence. Potter looked up at Draco, "Daphne Greenglass," Potter stated. Draco rose his eyebrows for Potter to go on. "You two… seem to be spending a lot of time together," Potter prompted. 

Draco rolled on his back, his arm touching Potter's. He pillowed his head with the arm not touching Potter, he didn't want to lose contact. "We're friendly," Draco explained. 

He could hear Potter breathing next to him. "Just friends?" Potter asked. 

Draco turned to Potter, who met his eyes. "For now," he whispered. Potter nodded, never breaking Draco's gaze. A blush crawled up his neck. 

"Montague," Draco stated. 

"Hmm?" was Potter's response, his eyes following Draco's mouth. 

"Merlin, Potter. What's the gossip?" Draco demanded. 

"Oh, oh yeah. Fred and George pushed him into a cabinet, and he disappeared," Potter explained. 

Draco couldn't stop laughing at the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are seen and thanked!! 
> 
> Follow me @carpebellum on tumblr :)


	8. Chapter 8

The fire warmed their bodies that were lying on the floor. They laid on the blankets and pillows that softened the floor. Draco was on his back, his head supported by pillow. Potter was there. His head was propped by his arm, but he was looking down at Draco. He was so close. 

Draco's neck and face was warmed by his blush that travelled down to his chest. The fire behind Potter created a glow about him. The glow was almost has bright as his soul. 

Draco gasped when he felt a soft touch along his jaw. His body sparked in sensation. The touch traveled from his jaw to his neck. Potter lend in. 

Potter's breath feathered against his lips. Draco's lips parted. Potter's hand cupped Draco's jaw, tilting his head closer. Their noses touched, their lips almost touching. 

Their lips gently brushed against each other, not exactly a kiss, but almost. 

"Potter," he whispered, the words taken from his chest at Potter's proximity. 

Potter's lips closed against his. 

Draco woke with a gasp. "What the fuck?" he spoked into the curtains. 

The curtains were suddenly pulled back. "Wet dream?" Blaise grinned, leaning against the bedpost. Draco propped himself up on his elbows. 

"How much did you hear?" Draco asked, a blush on his cheeks. 

"Holy shit, I was just guessing. Fuck that's brilliant," Blaise barked. 

Draco hurried to his knees, pushing Blaise away, all while Blaise laughed. 

"Hurry up, asshole. You're running late for breakfast, or would you rather think about someone's broomstick?" Blaise continued to teased. 

"I'm about to stick a broomstick up your ass," Draco grumbled, getting out of bed to start dressing. 

All of the other dormmates had continued to breakfast. Draco and Blaise were the only ones in the room. 

"Daphne's waiting for you, I have to meet Milly," Blaise excused himself. 

Draco hurried to dressed. Daphne was waiting at the foot of the stairs for him when he left the dorm. She was in her school robes, her hair in a loose bun and the base of her neck. Her face was framed by the strands of hair that were loose from her bun. 

"How long have you been waiting?" Draco greeted. 

"Too long, asshole," she punched his arm. 

"I didn't know you were waiting for me," he mumbled as he rubbed his arm. 

"I needed you, dickhead," she growled. 

"Why? What's wrong?" he investigated. 

She stepped in close to him, her eyes were full of fury. "It's Pansy, she needs you," she stated. 

"What's wrong with Pansy?" he asked. 

They walked out of the Common Room and into the halls of the dungeons. "She needs a friend," Daphne explained. 

"Who doesn't need a friend?" Draco theorized, which earned him another punch in the arm. 

"Just keep an eye on her, I think she's about to snap," Daphne warned. 

"Snap? Why? What do you know?" Draco demanded. 

"Nothing, I know nothing. That's the problem. I think she's… it's like when she first came to school after her dad died," she warned. 

Draco sighed, this really wasn't what he needed right now. Pansy was a shell of a person, hollowed out by fear and hot anger. Draco had hoped that she had fixed herself, somehow, plastered over her cracks enough to function. 

"Fuck, Draco. She needs your help," Daphne swore at Draco's hesitancy. 

"I know that, we'll just have to keep an eye on her," Draco lectured. 

"Keep an eye on her? As if she's some misbehaving child? Merlin, Draco, get your head out of your ass and help your friend," Daphne snapped. 

"What do you want me to do, Daphne? Why don't you own your problems and stop putting them on me?" Draco yelled. 

Daphne stepped back, her cool temper knifing through Draco. He wanted to take it back, but he couldn't. Daphne didn't say anything as she turned, walking away. 

Draco watched as she left, there was a strength in her shoulders that proved to Draco that he would feel the wrath of her later. Bile rose to Draco's throat, why wouldn't he be better? He continued his way to breakfast, claws at his back. 

Why couldn't he carry his friends? Potter, Mafalda, Theo and Blaise, Daphne, his parents and Pansy, they needed him. How could he give them what they needed when he couldn't even care for himself? 

He exited out of the dungeons, entering into the main hallway. The hall was decorated with garland for the upcoming winter holidays. There was excitement in the chatter of the students as he entered the Great Hall, but the Slytherin table was quiet with tension. The holidays meant returning to the homes that were no longer their homes. 

"Draco, nice of you to join us," Theo greeted, who was sitting by himself. 

"Do I even want to know?" Draco questioned, sitting across from him. 

Theo shrugged, rubbing his arms. "I guess it's the holidays," he theorized. 

"Crabbe and Goyle?" 

"Snape wants to make sure they don't embarrass him again in class," Theo explained. 

"Pansy?" 

"Didn't even show up for breakfast. Daphne? She was looking for you." 

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm fucked," he admitted. Theo gave him as sympathetic of a look as he could while eating his toast. "Why didn't you sit with Blaise?" Draco investigated. 

"It's best if we distant ourselves, the holidays and all," Theo provided. 'And all,' meaning Mr. Nott and his horrid cruelty, with the unsure relations between the Zabini's and their Lord, distance is the best policy. "Oh no," Theo gasped, shoveling toast into his mouth with surprising speed. 

"Hello, Theodore," a girly, breathy voice greeted behind Draco. 

Draco turned to see one of the Carrow twins, which one he had no clue. Her uniform perfectly in place, no button undone, her bow tie tight. Her hair straight and smooth down her back, held back by a green ribbon. 

"Hrmfg," Theo acknowledged, his mouth stuffed with toast, unable to talk. 

"I was hoping you would come sit with my sister and I, we would love to have your company," the twin smiled dangerously sweet. 

The panic on Theo's face was terribly hilarious. He made motions with a variety of groans, shoveling toast into his mouth. He stood, hitting Draco in his shoulder, it was time for them to go. 

"Ah, yes, ah," Draco started, staying seated, "Snape needs us to… help tutor some of his less successful students." 

"Oh, well, perhaps Theodore wouldn't mind helping me study for Professor Snape's test tomorrow," she tilted her head at Theo, a girly smile on her lips. 

Theo couldn't defend himself with his mouth full of toast. 

"I'm sure Theo would enjoy your company," Draco agreed, feeling Theo's anger in his back. 

"Excellent, see you tonight," the twin peaked over Draco at Theo. 

Draco turned to Theo, only to be hit over the head with a textbook. Draco stood, following Theo out of the Great Hall, laughing. Draco had to be careful to stay at least an arm's length away, as Theo kept trying to hit Draco with as much force as he could. 

"You son of a bitch," Theo finally swallowed the mouth full of toast. 

"It was too easy," Draco grinned, "who knew that the Carrow twin fancied you?" 

"No one! No one knew! I didn't even know, why didn't I know?" Theo complained to Draco's glee. The pair continued down the hall towards Transfiguration. 

"Which one was that?" Draco asked. 

"I have no idea," Theo slumped. Draco laughed. 

"I'll see you in class, need to piss," he dismissed himself. 

"Hope you get stuck!" Theo yelled behind him. 

Draco entered the lavatory, passing by other students, who paid him no mind. He entered one of the stalls, placing his bookbag on the hook along the stall door. He turned to the toilet, unzipping his pants, stopping when he noticed the bubbles coming from the toilet water. 

"The fuck…?" he muttered, hesitantly investigating the toilet. 

More bubbles answered him. He could swear he heard a voice. He leaned in more closely, the voice sound familiar. The bubbles gained intensity. 

"Um….Hello?" he supplied nervously. This could easily be a joke at his expense. 

The bubbles stopped. 

A hand shot out of the toilet, grabbing Draco's shoulder and pulling. Draco thrashed against the arm, the bubbles erupted in intensity. The entire toilet seemed to shake with the force of the arm. The pipes swelled under the pressure. Draco yanked himself free of the hand, stepping back out of reach. 

The hand gripped the edge of the toilet, the knuckles white. 

Draco ran out of the stall, through the lavatory and into the halls. His feet carried him as his lungs burned with the intensity of his running. He shoved students out of his way, ignoring the yells. 

"Professor Snape!" he yelled down the hallway. 

"Professor Snape!" the strain on his lungs made his breathing harsh. 

The door opened as Draco continued to yell. Snape frowned as he glared at Draco. Draco gasped, "Someone's in the toilet."

Snape stared at Draco. Draco stared at Snape. 

"Did you knock?" Severus supplied unhelpfully. 

"Knock- what? Yes, I knocked. I meant in the toilet!" Draco snapped. 

"Then use a different toilet Malfoy," Severus shook off.

"Merlin, Professor. There is someone stuck in the pipes of the toilet," Draco explained, frustration clear. He grabbed Severus's cloak sleeve, pulling the slightly taller man alongside him, motioning the urgency of the situation. 

Severus followed behind him as Draco broke into a run, students cleared the halls for them. Draco and Severus burst into the lavatory, a couple of boys proceeded to get piss on themselves. 

"What the fuck?" a particularly boisterous boy swore. 

"Detention," Severus punished in a cool voice. 

Draco walked straight to the stall, placing a hand on the door to enter. 

"Knock," Severus snapped behind him. 

Draco knocked roughly while rolling his eyes before opening the toilet. The stall was empty. 

"Well?" Severus tapped his foot. 

Draco's ears turned red. "You have to talk to it," he mumbled. 

"I what?" 

"Talk to the toilet, Professor," he said, glaring at Severus. Severus's jaw clenched, he pinched the bridge of his noise.

"Merlin, if this is a joke, Malfoy, your father will hear about this," he threatened, walking into the stall. 

There are very few happy memories that are burned into Draco's mind. Watching Severus Snape talk to a toilet is one of them. Watching the toilet bubble and produce a hand that gripped Severus's cloak with a tight grasp is the other. Severus falling onto his ass in shock is the third. 

Having to witness Montague be pulled out of the pipes almost ruined the fun. Being sent to class by a stern Snape did ruin the fun, but not without a serious conversation about confidentiality. Meaning, if Draco told anyone that Severus fell on his ass after talking to a toilet he would be in detention for the rest of the year. 

"Pleasure of you to join us, Malfoy," Professor McGonagall scorned him as he entered the class. He promptly handed her the note Severus supplied him before she further scorned him. 

Daphne was sitting with Cho Chang, she didn't even look up from her book as he passed by her. Draco took a seat next to Theo. 

Theo leaned into Draco's space, "Did you fall in?" he asked with a grin. 

"No, I did not fall in," Draco hissed. 

"Are you sure? Because you took a while," Theo teased. 

"I'm about to stick you into the toilet," threatened Draco. 

"And I am about to stick the pair of you in detention," Professor McGonagall spoke from behind them. The pair mumbled their apologies before returning to their lessons. 

Draco couldn't focus on the lesson. Daphne was sitting in front of him, he couldn't catch her eye. He looked at her loosely braided hair in a single rope down to the center of her back. She and Chang worked on their lesson without an issue, Chang even laughed at something Daphne said. 

Chang was pretty, Draco supposed. She was short, but thick in muscle from Quidditch. What did Potter see in her? Was it because she was smart? Or was it her socialite attitude? Maybe Potter liked her for her long, dark hair. 

Draco played Quidditch, he was muscular, plus, he was tall. People liked tall people right? Draco was smart, Potter knew this from their continued Occlumency lessons. Draco knew how to network and be social, Potter could be friends with Draco's social circle. Even if Draco had to put Pansy into a headlock. Draco could grow his hair out, if that's what Potter likes. 

What did Cho Chang have that he didn't? She was a girl, for one. 

Draco slumped. He was so stupid. Draco had to smother this crush he had. 

But how? Potter was handsome, he was brave and kind. Draco's heart fluttered just at the thought of him.

"Draco…pssst…Draco…Malfoy, Draco, Draco Malfoy. For fucks sake, Malfoy!" Theo yelled at him. 

Draco blinked, "What, Theo?" he snapped. 

"Class is over," Theo stated with a roll of his eyes. Draco looked around, all of the students had risen, gathering their bags to continue to their next class. 

"Oh, who was Draco thinking of to have his head so far in the clouds?" Daphne stood next to Theo. 

"No one," Draco rose from his seat. 

"Really? No one's certain pulsing broomstick?" Daphne bumped his shoulder with hers. 

Theo chuckled. Draco noticed Chang hovering around them uncertainly, a hesitant smile on her lips. 

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco took the teasing, glad Daphne wasn't too angry over his earlier snap. 

"And none of us do," Theo commented. 

"I have absolutely no idea what you two are talking about," Chang stood stride along the trio. The group stepped into the busy hallway, students chattered around them. 

"No one ever does," Theo explained to Cho, who smiled. 

Draco dismissed himself to his favorite class; History of Magic. Pansy was already in their regular shared desk at the back of the class near the door. 

She didn't look good, her hair was in disarray, un-brushed on the top of her head. Her uniform was wrinkled, there was an old, musky smell about her. Draco guessed she hadn't changed for cleaned herself since yesterday, maybe before. Daphne was right, he should have taken her warning more seriously. 

"Pansy," Draco greeted. Pansy only smiled at him, empty. Students continued to file into the class, Potter and his shadows passed by without a glance in Draco's direction. When class started, Pansy opened her book to follow along with the Professor's dreary voice. 

Pansy didn't say anything to him, but Draco didn't think she was angry with him. He suspected the required return to their homes was the source of many Slytherin's anxieties. The Dark Lord had stolen the safety of their homes away from everyone. 

 

Draco knew this was an awful idea. When Potter bumped him in History of Magic, he had slipped a note into Draco's hand. The note had an awful rendition of Draco as a Professor, probably due to the lessons the pair had been sharing. Underneath the drawing, a scribbled note said 'Different time, same place. Meet me after the meeting.'

Bad idea. This would be the first time they met in broad daylight. What if someone saw them without the cloak of night to protect them? Draco shouldn't go, the danger was too great. 

So, of course, he went. The chance of meeting Potter, seeing him, was too important. 

Potter opened the door quickly when he knocked, grabbing him and pulling him into the Room. The Room looked different in day than at night. No orange couch, no fireplace. Instead, the room appeared larger to fit all of the students in the DA. There was no furniture, but newspaper clippings and pictures were on one of the walls. 

"Did anyone follow you?" Potter asked. 

"I wouldn't be here if someone did," Draco explained, jumping to his questions. "What's wrong? Why did we have to meet? Did you have a vision?" 

"Um… No?" Potter shrugged. 

Draco stared at Potter. Potter opened his mouth, closed his mouth, looked down at his feet, shuffling. "I was worried about you," Potter mumbled. 

"Worried? Why? What happened?" Draco questioned, putting his hands in his pockets. 

Potter blushed. "I'm sorry, this is stupid," he rubbed the back of his head, "Dobby told me that you were yelling for Snape, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he explained. 

Draco blushed, a smile forcing its way onto his face. "So…you were worried about me?" he teased. 

"No," Potter blurted. 

"Oh, I think you were," Draco grinned. 

Potter rolled his eyes, "I will make sure to never to that again." 

"Wait, I didn't say that. I think it's cute," Draco complimented. 

Potter's eyes widened, Draco wished he could take his words back. 

"So… Dobby," Draco changed the subject, putting his bag on the floor and walking away from Potter. He needed to distance himself. 

"Yeah, he works here now as a free elf," Potter explained. 

Draco smiled, "Good, I'm glad to hear that he's okay. Father didn't offer any explanation as to why Dobby wasn't a part of our home anymore, I always wondered what happened to him." He turned around, only to see that Potter had walked to him, eliminating the distance between them as always. 

"I tricked your father into giving Dobby a sock," Potter shrugged. 

Draco threw his head back and laughed, Potter always made him feel lighter. "That's brilliant," he grinned, "you're brilliant," he whispered. Potter's smiled dropped as his eyes became heavy with a look Draco couldn't define. Potter stepped closer to him, Draco breath slowed as he took in the green of Potter's eyes. 

A knock on the door stopped whatever was going to happened. Draco froze. Potter froze. 

"Harry?" a girl's voice came from behind the door. "Harry open the door."

Potter grabbed Draco, "Table!" he whispered hurriedly. The Room supplied a bare wooden table in the center of the room. Potter shoved Draco underneath. "Table cloth!" Draco said, sliding under the table, he quickly Accio'd his book bag to him from across the room. Potter hurried to the door, opening it to let someone in. 

"Hey, Cho. What's up?" Potter nearly shouted, nervousness laced his voice. 

"Harry, I wanted to talk about-" 

Draco promptly shut out their voices. He wasn't interested in their conversation. The pair walked over to a wall, looking at a picture of Cedric. Cho started to cry. Draco flinched at Potter's attempt at comforting the poor girl. 

Sweat started the collect on Draco's brow. He quietly adjusted his position from under the table. The voices became quiet, perhaps that had left? Draco hadn't heard the door open. 

Draco lifted the table cloth to peak outside and gasped. They were kissing. Potter and Cho, they were kissing. Draco watched as Potter cupped Cho's face. 

Draco's stomach twisted, his anger ranging in his chest nastily. His chin quivered, he tried to calm himself down. He hid his head into his knees, trying to stop his sobs. 

"Draco?" he heard Potter call for him. Cho must have left. Draco, with as much dignity as he could, crawled out of the table, his bookbag in hand. There was no point in trying to hide the fact that he had been crying. He hurried to the door, he needed to get out of this room. 

"Draco, wait, I'm sorry!" Potter called out to him. 

Draco turned to him. A painfully fake smile on his lips, "Why? I'm happy for you Potter," he forced. 

Potter stared at him. 

"I'm your friend," Draco croaked, leaving the room. Potter didn't follow him. 

They were just friends, after all.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco stared down at the page in front of him. His eyes were sore not from reading, but from trying not to cry. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He decided to pass the couch for the privacy of the table underneath the stairs. The torches were dimmed for the late hour. Most students were in bed. 

He didn't know why he was so upset. Potter's friendship was the most important relationship he had. Why risk the relationship he had, the relationship he cherished, by raising his hopes on a fantasy?

The way Potter looked at him, held his hand, laughed with him, made him feel himself. Draco couldn't risk his friendship with Potter over jealousy. Cho seemed good, even if she came from a place of grief. Perhaps their relationship would comfort Potter in his own grief. Draco should be happy for him, happy that he could share the burden of this massive burden he shouldered alone. 

He would try to be happy for Potter. Of course, Potter would be under the impression that he was nothing more than happy for his friend. He would have to coil his feelings inside of him to hide them, to shield Potter from them. Potter wasn't at fault for Draco's feelings, Draco would take responsibility. 

Easier said than done. Draco thought. 

Draco flipped through his notes for tomorrow's Potions class. Soon, the winter holidays would be upon them. Draco would return to his home that wasn't a home. He would be promised to marry a girl who didn't love him. He would have to accept whatever situation he entered into at the manor. 

Numb acceptance was the only emotion he was met with. He was hollowed out. Whatever happened would happen, there was nothing he could do accept prepare for the worst. 

Someone slipped into the only other seat at the table, Draco didn't look up. He simply slumped deeper into his seat. 

"Draco," Pansy whispered next to him. He glanced at her. She was pale, her appearance hadn't improved from earlier today. Her hair was still un-brushed, her stink had only worsen has the day had continued. She had been crying, she didn't even bother to try and hide the fact. She was breaking. 

"Draco, please," she looked down at her hands, her nails had been bitten to the skin. "I…I can't go back home," her lip quivered. 

"I don't know what you want me to do," stated Draco simply, "I'm in the same situation as you."

"No-" she shook her head, stroking her hair, "no, you're not." She rested her chin on the hand, biting her lip. "My mother," she started, shifting in her seat. Pansy wouldn't stop moving, rubbing her chin, biting her nails, messing with her hair, her tie. She was nervously scared. Of Draco?

This was serious, what didn't Draco know? 

Draco closed his book, he was just reading about Doxy venom, he turned in his chair to face Pansy. He reached out for her, taking her hands in his. "Pansy, talk to me," he pleated. 

Pansy's eyes searched Draco's, trust was a rare, fragile thing during war. Draco waited, holding Pansy's gaze. Pansy pulled out of Draco's reaching, pulling out a letter from her uniform robes. 

She didn't hand the letter to Draco directly, but placed the letter on the table, sliding the parchment over to Draco. She pulled away completely after, curling into the chair. Draco took the letter gently, opening the folded paper and reading the containments. 

The letter was from Mrs. Parkinson, Pansy's mother, the letter was about a dinner party taking place over the winter break. Draco read through the letter, the guest list, slowly putting the pieces together. 

"A Debutante Ball?" he asked, needing conformation. 

Pansy placed her head in her hands, nodding. She was deathly still. Draco rubbed his chin. Mrs. Parkinson certainly worked fast. She must have caught gossip of Draco and Daphne's impending engagement and clawed at the opportuning to rise in society. She would have Pansy marry into a family, or be betrothed, for protection. 

"I'm scared of what she'll want me to do," Pansy sobbed, her hands still covering her face. "What if one of my suitor's wants to try out the goods? Would she have me-" she couldn't finish through her crying. 

Draco froze at the sight of Pansy so broken, he had never seen her cry from sadness before. She only cries when she's angry, Pansy's face had remained dry during her Father's funeral.

"She wouldn't do that, she's your mother," Draco comforted, tasting his lies on his tongue. 

"That's exactly why she would. She's scared, Draco. I'm scared," Pansy explained, the weight of her reality crushing her. 

Draco's words caught in his throat, there was nothing he could do. 

Pansy leaned into his space, "You know they see my father as a Blood Traitor for killing himself instead of facing the Dark Lord, what does that make us? How long do you think we will last before me and my mother are made examples of?" she whispered harshly. 

Draco bit his lip, "I don't know what you want me to do about it." 

All of the air left Pansy's lungs, her shock clear on her face. "I want you to help me," she begged. 

Draco laid his head in his hands, what could he do? What he needed was time. Time to figure out a plan, but they were going home in just two days. The break was so close he could taste the fear in the air. 

Then Pansy wouldn't return home for break. 

But how? How could she not return to her own home without labeling herself as a Blood Traitor? Her mother would try her best to shield Pansy from any whispers, but whispers would continue. _Blood Traitors. Whores. Scum._

Pansy would have to appear to be held back by an enviable force, her health perhaps. This was a dangerous line to toe. Whispers are inevitable, but if people suspect Pansy would follow in the pattern set by her father, then the whispers would become gossip, then rumors. Her health could not suddenly falter without rumors. 

An accident then. 

"Please say something, Draco," Pansy pulled him from him thoughts. 

Draco sighed, "how far would you go?" 

Pansy froze at the question. Her eyes widened. "What… what do you mean?" she questioned. "What are you talking about?" 

"Better that you have no thought of it," he dismissed. Better that you don't know where my arrow is coming from. 

He rose, he needed to rid himself of the coil of his plan. Pansy clenched his wrist as he walked pass, stopping him abruptly. She opened her mouth to say something. 

"I promise," Draco swore. 

Pansy loosened her grip, her hand slid down Draco's wrist and into his hand. He tightened his grip around her hand, trying to provide comfort in the pain she would soon endure by his doing.

Draco reached out for her, tucking a strain of long dark hair behind her ear. "You won't return to your mother's," he explained. Pansy nodded, letting go of his hand. Draco reached over her to collect his things. He could feel Pansy's eyes on his back as he made his way to his dorm. 

He entered his shared dorm room, Crabbe and Goyal were sitting together on Goyal's trunk, talking. Theo was reading on his bed. Blaise had already closed his bedcurtains for the night, he was probably asleep. Draco dressed into his sleepwear. He made sure to pull out the note Potter had slipped to him from his uniform robes. Draco turned his back to his dormmates, slipping the note into his locked bedside table where he keeps all of the notes Potter had given him. 

Draco slipped into bed, under the heavy covers. He closed the curtains around his bed, wishing his dormmates goodnight. He placed the charm upon the curtains. He laid down, wishing for silent thoughts and simple dreams. He thought of his plan, how he was going to handle Pansy. Daphne and his engagement would happened in a little over a week. Would she grow to hate him after? Would their friendship twist into something cruel and hateful? Would Theo even survive the winter break? Or would he snap under the pressure of his father? 

Could Draco face his Lord? Open his mind to him while guarding his heart, his soul? Would his Lord smell his betrayal on him, kill him, his family? Would he be forced to shoulder his father's mistakes? 

How much blood would be on his hands when this war ends? 

Would Potter still care for him with his hands thick with blood he never wanted to shed? Could Draco support Potter through his grief when his own guilt consumed every action he took?

 

Draco didn't see Potter the next day. 

Not that he particularly noticed Potter's absence. 

Draco didn't notice Potter's absence at breakfast, he most certainly wasn't waiting for Potter. Wasn't waiting to catch Potter's gaze. Wasn't waiting for Potter to give him a small, barely noticeable smile from across the Great Hall. Wasn't waiting for Potter so that they could sneak off to the lavatory, only for a brief moment for Potter to give Draco a grin and say, 'Same time, same place?' 

Draco wasn't waiting for Potter to meet him in the Room of Hidden Things, wasn't waiting for Potter to snog him like he had snogged Cho Chang yesterday. 

Draco hardly noticed Potter was missing, after all. 

Daphne, however, noticed Draco pointedly not missing a certain scar head, and teased him all throughout breakfast. 

Draco had successfully ignored her, he was grateful for the distraction from their impending engagement. For the inevitable shred of their fragile friendship. This is why Draco hadn't said a word whenever Cho Chang herself invited Daphne to walk with her to class. Let Daphne have whatever rebel action she needed to before she was engaged. 

Potter was nowhere to be seen throughout the day. Where could he have gone? Draco had searched everywhere, Potter wasn't in the infirmary, he wasn't quick enough to avoid Draco the entire day. Where could he be? Draco also noticed that only one of his shadows remained in the halls. Granger, but she seemed tired and wrecked with…worry? Why was she worried? What happened? Was Potter alright? Was he wrecked with an illness so worrisome that St. Mungo's was the only option? Where were the Weasleys? A family matter surely, Potter was a Weasley by proxy. What? What happened? 

"Malfoy, if you are too distracted for my class you are welcome to leave," Severus interrupted his thoughts. Pansy tensed beside him, Blaise snorted on the opposite side. 

Draco blinked, not used to being snapped at, "Sorry, Professor," he apologized. 

" 'Sorry,' doesn't mean anything if you have wasted my time, Malfoy," Severus dismissed. 

Draco remained silence after. He didn't want to risk pissing Severus off further. 

"What? Do you agree that you've been wasting this opportunity to learn? Do you not need an education? Or are you simply too wise to be bothered with my class?" Severus challenged. 

Apparently Draco pisses off Severus by breathing these days. "No sir," he mumbled, knowing that he was going to lose whatever argument Severus thought they were having.

"No what, Malfoy? Use the manners and eloquence your father as worked so hard to engrain into you, or are you too smart for him as well?" Severus chilled. 

No one in the class moved. Blaise had stopped snickering from under his breath. Pansy had shrunk away from Draco, not wanting to be in the cross fire. 

Other students had stilled, too scared to draw attention to themselves. Snape was on the warpath, they were trying to avoid his wrath. 

Draco had honestly no clue what he had done to anger Severus to this degree. Draco was a star pupil, Severus was his mentor, his godfather. Whatever Draco had done, Severus had taken the offense personally. There was no way out of this unscathed. Draco was raised, however, by Lucius Malfoy. Draco had been taught self-preservation at a young age. For all his pride laced into his heart, Draco knew how to humble himself, even if the act left acid in his mouth. So, he lowered his eyes and didn't say anything. 

"Have you suddenly taken a vow of silence? Where is that smart wit you've inherited from your mother?" Severus humiliated. 

Draco didn't budge, didn't blink. He stayed still and silent. He wasn't going to bait Snape. He wasn't going to give him an inch out of sure stubbornness.

Severus seemed giant in his anger, this frustration Draco didn't know the source of. Draco didn't know why. Why was Severus gripping the table in such fury that his knuckles were white. His hands were shaking. 

Why? Out of frustration of Draco's daydreaming? What was the true reason? 

Severus glared at Draco, he was waiting for an answer. Draco wanted to live through this class, so he kept his mouth shut and eyes down cast. 

"Nothing to say? Well, there is always a first for everything," Severus dismissed, turning away from Draco towards the board to continue his lecture. 

Draco kept his ears sharp, he was more attentive than ever in case of another attack from his teacher. The rest of the class sat a little straighter, wrote a little more, took Snape's lecture to their hearts. Everyone was terrified of being the next target, but Severus seemed to specifically reserve all of his frustration for Draco. 

He surprised Draco with questions unrelated to the potion they were discussing. He snapped at Draco for the most trivial actions; breathing too loudly, writing too messy, having his textbooks stacked on his desk. 

Draco tightened his jaw, he didn't give Severus the satisfaction of a result. Not a blink. Not a tighten of knuckles. Not a quirk of a jaw. 

Which, naturally, made Severus only taunt Draco more.

Finally, Severus allowed the class to collect the supplies needed for the potion they were brewing. Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to having Severus critic his every tiny step. 

Pansy stood to collect her supplies, Draco knocked her bookbag to the ground with his elbow. The two bent down to gather Pansy's things that had fallen out of the bag. She didn't say a word to him. Draco tried to ignore how quiet she was being, how scared she seemed. 

He reached out for her, taking her hand in his. "We don't have to do this," he whispered through the milling and chatter of the classroom. Pansy shook her head, her answer was clear. She had no other way. 

Draco couldn't risk Severus following him into the supply closet, not if Draco's plan to help Pansy was going to work, so Draco made the burner under the caldron on Snape's desk rise in heat suddenly from his place on the floor. This made the potion on Severus's desk boil over. Severus cursed under his breath, hurrying to his desk to tend to the mess. 

Draco stood, walking to the couple of steps that led to the closet, he made sure to step over the doorframe that connected the steps to the door. People had been known to trip. 

He entered the supply closet, all the ingredients neatly labeled and alphabetized. Draco began to look for what he needed, working quickly. Pansy entered behind him, seeming nervous. Draco found what he was looking for. Under the 'V's', was Doxy Venom in a glass bottle, as pure Doxy Venom could only be held in glass.

Draco walked to her, standing in front of her, looking down at her dark eyes. She didn't say a word. Draco handed her the bottle. Her hands were shaking. 

"Hold the bottle tightly," he ordered. 

Pansy gripped the bottle tightly in her hands. 

"Tighter. Hold the bottle to yourself," his commanded. 

Pansy cradled the bottle to her stomach. 

"Good, hold tightly now," he stated, as simply as if he was making sure she didn't drop her milk. 

Draco hurriedly collected his ingredients, his hands shaking with what he was about to do. 

He motioned for Pansy to walk in front of him, she held the bottle of venom in glass to her chest. She turned the handle on the door-

Draco shoved her with all of his strength down the steps.

Her feet never touched the stairs as she flies to the hard, brick floor. Pansy hit the floor front first, her hands to her chest. 

Clutching the glass bottle full with venom.

Draco heard the glass shatter, heard her body hit the floor. Then silence. Draco froze as Pansy didn't move from the crumpled heap at the bottom of the steps. Did he kill her? 

Draco tripped in his rush to help. His blood in his ears. 

Draco stilled as Pansy weakly sat up, there was a scream not coming from Pansy's lips. Pansy had tears down her face, her head was bleeding, there was crimson bleeding through her white shirt from the shattered glass. 

The glass had cut into her chest, along her arms. Her breath quickened as she spread her arms wide to watch the cuts bleed as she sat up onto her knees. 

Severus was next to her instantly, barking orders at terrified children. He was yelling. He was yelling at Draco, Draco realized. 

"Doxy Venom," he answered to Snape's yells. "The glass had doxy venom." 

Severus's eyes widen in realization at the situation. The panic was clear in his voice now as he ordered someone to get Madam Pomphrey. 

Doxy Venom isn't instantly deadly, not even in large dosages. For a time. 

Draco's blood ran cold as Pansy went painfully ridged beside him. Her face paled to an almost grey as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, the orbs bulging from her face. Her mouth opened in a scream that turned into a gurgle as black foam bubbled from her mouth. 

He couldn't hear anything. Draco could only hear his own heartbeat. Even as he saw the twisted expressions of terror on everyone's face. 

Pansy's throat strained against the black liquid even as her body remained dangerously still. The dark liquid fell onto her shirt, combined with the red of her blood. Draco just watched, unsure of what to do. Where was Madam Pomphrey? Why wasn't she here already? 

Would Pansy die? Would she drown in the darkness that she repealed? 

Did Draco kill her trying to protect her? 

Two hands rested on his shoulders as he was pulled to his feet. Severus tightened his grip on Draco as Madam Pomphrey started to cast her magic on Pansy. Severus led Draco out of the empty classroom. Where had everyone gone? How long had he been sitting there, staring at a drowning girl? 

Draco looked down as he was led down the hall. He wished there was blood on his hands so he could wash it away, maybe the twisting guilt in his chest could be washed away also. 

How much blood would he have on his hands by the end of this war that he was never meant to be a part of? 

He was placed in a chair. He looked around, he was in the private lavatory of Severus. The widows were shut, the room was dark except for a few blue glowing lanterns. Severus had his back to him as he shut the door. 

The silence between them was thick.

Draco didn't know what Severus was going to do, he couldn't read the still face of his mentor in the dim light as he turned to face Draco. 

Severus crossed his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. He ran his hand over his face, his shoulders were tense. Severus was nervous, worried even. Worried about Pansy? No, there was no use of fretting over her, she was in the best hands possible now. 

Severus just stared at Draco, his eyes squinting as if trying to look into Draco's thoughts. 

"I don't even know you anymore, do I?" Severus muttered to himself as he started to pace. 

What had him in such a strange mood? Why was Severus being cruel instead of comforting whenever Draco almost lost a friend? 

Realization settled into Draco's stomach. "You think I pushed her," he said, his chest hollowed out. 

Severus stilled. 

"How could you think that? How could I be capable of hurting Pansy?" he defended himself, trying to plant enough doubt for his own behalf. 

Severus tense, "I think you are dangerously capable if pushed by the right circumstance."

"And what circumstances would those be, Professor?" he asked innocently. 

"Don't play dumb with me!" Severus snapped. "I know what you're going through, what you all are going through. Don't push me away. Let me help you," Severus begged, standing in front of Draco's seat. 

Draco looked up at Severus, his tone of voice surprised him. Draco had never heard Severus beg before, or speak with such emotion. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about sir," he stated. He wanted to hear Severus say how wrong he was to leave children alone in this war. He would make him say it. After all, would any of this have been necessary if someone reached out to the students? Would he have to marry at seventeen? Be engage at fifteen? Witness murder at fourteen? 

Would he have to poison his friend to ensure she wasn't actioned off to the highest bidder? 

"Is it necessary that I speak in less obvious terms?" Severus snapped. 

"Explain what, sir? I don't know what you want," Draco played, "Pansy tripped over the doorframe like many students before her, I was too far away to catch her. They was also the unfortunate fact that she was holding a bottle of Doxy venom." 

"And why was she carrying the venom when the ingredient wasn't needed for the potion?" Severus interrogated. 

"Well, Professor, I hate to admit but I wasn't really paying attention in class today," Draco cooled. 

Luckily, someone knocked on the door, interrupting whatever Severus was about to do. "Enter," Severus ordered. The door opened, Dumbledore walked into the blue light. He was dressed in a long silver robes, he appeared to be an eternal spirit. "Dumbledore," Severus greeted, brushing pass Dumbledore as Dumbledore stood in front of Draco. Dumbledore nodded in recognition. 

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore looked down at Draco. A twisting sensation settled inside his stomach, but Draco kept his chilled demeaner. "You would mind explaining to me what happened earlier today with Ms. Parkinson?" Dumbledore asked, "You're not in any trouble, we are just trying to have an understanding of the events." 

Draco reexplained what happened in the storage closet. Draco had his back turn, he didn't see Pansy grab the venom. When he started to leave the closet, Pansy tripped and fell onto the glass container, introducing the venom into Pansy's blood steam. 

Dumbledore listened intently, Severus listened from behind him. Draco finished his explanation, but they just shared a glance and didn't say anything. Draco's pulse quickened at the silence shared between them. They seemed to want something more from Draco, with Snape's temper today, Draco didn't want to know what Dumbledore wanted from him. 

Panic settled deep in his spine. Crawling upwards into the base of his skull. He needed to calm down. Pansy would agree with his story, whenever she gets better. If she gets better. 

Unless she betrayed him. 

Unless this was her plain the entire time. 

No. He wouldn't allow himself to focus of the hypotheticals. He needed to handle the situation he was facing now. The rest will have to wait. 

"She'll be okay, right?" he asked, as no one had told him any news on Pansy. 

Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him. "It's hard to say right now, but Madam Pomphrey is stabilizing her so she can be transported to St. Mungo's," he explained calmly. 

Draco's heart rose into his throat. The back of his eyes itched. This was the plan, he tried to calm himself. "Stabilizing?" he let his voice crack. Sometimes there was strength in the emotions that made you vulnerable. 

Dumbledore nodded gravely, "I can assure you that Madam Pomphrey is doing her best to help her." 

Draco swallowed, his face blushed as his eyes tickled with tears. This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what Pansy had agreed to. He had taken it too far, Pansy could die, the blame was on him. He should have done more research into Doxy venom, the case files in the library just hadn't been enough. 

Severus stepped out from behind Dumbledore to loom over Draco, "We wouldn't be in the mess in the first place if you hadn't-" 

"She tripped. She just tripped, Professor," Draco snapped coolly, glaring at Severus. 

Severus clenched his fist in anger, Draco met his gaze with his own icy glare. "Besides," he held Severus's gaze, "why would I want to hurt her?" he asked. 

Severus scoffed, rising from where he was leaning down to look at Draco. "Why?" he mocked, starting to pace the small room. "Why would you want to hurt Ms. Parkinson? It's not a question of why-" he started to yell. 

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted him. 

"-it's a question of rather or not you would," Severus shouted, "It's a question of what you decide, because apparently you're the only one that thinks he can!" 

Silence filled the room, except for Severus's heavy breathing from shouting. He was right, which annoyed Draco more than anything. Draco's jaw clenched as he swallowed down his temper.

"She tripped," he stated with eerily calm, "She tripped, it was just an unfortunate accident, nothing more. When she wakes up, I'm sure that is what she will tell you." He stood, he needed to wash himself of today. "Now, if I'm not being accused of attempted murder in any official sense," Severus didn't meet his challenge, Dumbledore held his gaze, "then I am awfully tired, and will turn in early." Severus almost vibrated in anger, Dumbledore was still, but there was almost an impressed expression on his face. Draco didn't read anymore into it. He walked to the door, turning just before he opened it, "You'll make my excuses to the rest of the class, won't you, Professor?" he taunted Severus.

He turned before he could enjoy the expression on Severus's face. Draco opened the door, only for a hand to harshly slam it shut. Severus was leaning into his space. 

"You have been teaching the Potter boy Occlumency," he sneered. 

"I have no id-" Draco automatically denied. 

"Malfoy, I am afraid that we have undeniable proof," Dumbledore finally spoke from behind them. 

Draco's hand tightened on the door knob. Maybe if he just runs they wouldn't chase him. Undeniable proof? Who's words would Dumbledore take as truth? Potter. Why would Potter tell Dumbledore and not Draco? Something happened, something bad. 

Draco turned, his shoulders strong and his chin up. "Is he alright?" he asked, he had to know. A twist in his stomach warned him against finding out the answer, but he had to be sure. 

Dumbledore's lip turned up into a small smile, Severus rolled his eyes besides Draco. "Yes, Malfoy," Dumbledore clamed, "Harry is fine." 

Draco shifted, why did Potter out them like this? Doesn't he know of the dangers? 

"I can assure you that the situation required Harry to tell us about you, Malfoy. He didn't take that lightly," Dumbledore continued. 

Draco swallowed, "No, I suppose he doesn't," he agreed. "Who else knows?" he investigated. 

"Just us three and Harry," Dumbledore answered with ease. 

"That's four too many," Severus snapped, "this shouldn't even be happening."

"Severus," Dumbledore warned. 

"No! This is a beyond idiotic situation," Severus snapped, he turned to Draco, "and you're an idiot for being a part of it. Do you know how dangerous this is?" 

"Unfortunately, I have a very clear understanding of the dangers I have put myself in," Draco argued, "and unlike you I have a family to protect, so there really isn't any meaning to demeaning me, Severus." 

Severus's shock on his face was crystal clear. Draco turned to talk to Dumbledore, "What do you want?" Draco asked bluntly. 

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back. "Malfoy, I want you to be safe. I know you to understand the dangers you are putting yourself, and your family at," Dumbledore explained, as if to a child. 

Draco sighed, they saw a scared child that was out of his depths, but Draco had already taught himself how to swim without drowning. Draco rested his hands on his hips, they weren't going to get anywhere with the tacit they were using. "I'm going to continue to teach Potter Occlumency, we'll start using Severus's private study to ensure privacy. I can assure you that I am adequate enough to teach," he lectured. 

Severus snorted from behind him, where he was still leaning against the doorframe. 

"What? Would you rather teach him? He hates you, and I'm not going to let whatever personal vendetta you have against his father risk his teaching or safety," Draco snapped. Severus gasped at his bluntness, at how quickly Draco was willing to fight dirty. 

"You're not necessarily specifically qualified," Dumbledore pointed out. 

"I can promise you that I am more that necessarily qualified," Draco stated. 

"None the less, perhaps Severus would be a better match," suggested Dumbledore. 

Draco bit his lip, he would have to compromise. "Severus can join us for our lessons at my digression, but if he makes Potter regress in his progress he will leave." 

Severus challenged with, "And what makes you think you can make such a demand?" 

"What? Are you going to banned me from teaching him? We'll just continue to meet in secret, you two didn't know we were meeting until Potter told you anyway," Draco shrugged, "might as well compromise so that you two can keep an eye on us." 

Dumbledore sighed, then he nodded in agreement with Draco's terms. Severus remained quiet. 

"Now, if I may, I must be going," Draco excused himself. Keeping his shoulders proud as he walked to the door. Severus held his gaze before he stepped away from the door, letting Draco by. 

Draco was almost out of the room when he felt a hand on his arm, stopping him. Severus pulled him in close to his face, "Did you push her?" he demined, but he already knew the answer. Severus knew the truth, he also knew the answer Draco would give him. 

"She just tripped, Professor," Draco stated innocently, before pulling his arm out of the tight grasp that held it. 

Severus shut the door behind Draco, turning to face Dumbledore, who was looking awfully pleased with himself. 

"Well," Dumbledore grinned, "that went well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Ajin_Anglyx. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support!! Hope this chapter breaks your heart ;)


	10. Chapter 10

"It's unfortunate that Parkinson won't be able to return home this holiday," Daphne spoke beside Draco. 

Draco hummed in agreement, his head leaning against the window of the train. Outside there was snow, a generous blanket of white along the landscape. The sky was grey with heavy clouds. The glass allowed the harsh chill to seep into the compartment. The cold brushed against Draco's nose. He made no attempt to cast a warming spell. He let the cold grip his bones, maybe he could numb himself from the visit to his empty home. 

"She's going to miss our engagement," Daphne added. 

Draco looked over at her, unsure of what she wanted. Daphne had her hair in a perfect braid down her back, she was wearing her pale blue cloak, the same one she had been wearing the night she showed her true colors to Draco. Daphne look beautiful, the cloak brought out her eyes. 

"All as well," Draco answered dryly.

Daphne rolled her eyes, "You're no fun," she teased. Draco leaned back against the window. He could see out of the corner of his eye Daphne pull out her cigarettes. She locked the door with a quick, silent flick of her wand. Then, she handed Draco one. Draco took the smoke from her slender fingers, she cupped his face as she lit the cig as Draco held it between his lips. 

He let the routine warm him, he pulled away from the window to face Daphne. She smiled gently as she blew smoke from her lips. 

"Are you scared?" he asked. 

Daphne paused to take a deep inhale of smoke, she shrugged, "I suppose so. Should I be?" she answered. 

Draco held her gaze, needing to apologize for everything that has yet to come. 

For all she had claimed to understand, to be aware of, she hadn't met him. She didn't have blood on her hands. Her parents had protected her the best they could. They couldn't protect her now. No one could.

"I think he might kill me," she whispered. Her face strangely calm as she said this fact. Daphne's eyes looked into the distance, she could be seeing the very moment she died and she would still be steady handed while she smoked. 

"I won't let him," Draco instantly promised, a promise that he thought to be a lie. 

Daphne sighed, "There's no need to pretend with me." She already knew her situation.

"I know," Draco whispered. 

Daphne lifted her legs onto the bench they shared, the toes of her shoes resting snuggly against Draco's thigh. Draco rested his hand on her knee. 

"Do you know who's been invited?" Daphne casually asked. 

Draco shrugged, "My parents haven't told me anything."

Daphne nodded, "Me too, but I hope there's cake, or custard, at least." 

"Really? Cake? That's your major concern here?" Draco grinned, too heavy to laugh. 

"Draco, as my future husband I feel like you should know this about me- I. Love. Cake." she explained clearly. 

"And what else should I know about you?" he teased. 

Daphne took a drag from her cigarette. She pinched her lips together in mock thought. "Well…" she started, "I smoke," was her insight. 

Draco gave an overdramatic sigh, "I suppose that's acceptable."

"And," she continued, "my favorite color is blue." 

Draco gave a pointed look to her outfit, "I wouldn't have guessed." 

"I also want a cat," she added. 

Draco gave a shrug, "so long as they don't eat the owls." 

"And-"

A knock saved Draco from an hour long lecture of the life of Daphne Greengrass. Daphne opened the door with a cast from her wand. 

Blaise poked his head in, "Oh, there you two love birds are." He entered the compartment. Draco removed his hand from Daphne's knee. Theo followed Blaise into the compartment. 

The pair sat together across from Daphne and Draco. Blaise had dressed out of his uniform, he was wearing simple robes, green. Theo was in black robes, his eyes were tired. Deep circles under his eyes. 

"Where's your other half, Draco?" Blaise asked. 

"She tripped," Draco answered, between puffs of smoke. "She tripped and fell onto a container of doxy venom."

"Ouch," Blaise winced. 

Draco thought back to Pansy's broken body on the cold brick floor. Pansy with her eyes rolled into her head, her mouth foaming with black fluid. Her trust in him. "Yeah… ouch," Draco sighed.

"So…." Blaise spoke into the silent compartment. Theo laid his head on Blaise's shoulder. Theo looked so tired, living under his father, living under his mother's murder, pressure placed on his thin shoulders. 

"How are you spending the break, Zabini?" Daphne provided, putting out her smoke on the bench seat. 

Blaise smiled tightly, "Just my mother and I this year, thankfully." 

"Oh? Has she already killed her latest husband?" Daphne spoke with sickly sweet politeness.

"Daphne," Draco warned.

Blaise just laughed tightly, "Heart attack, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately," Daphne agreed. 

"How are you spending your break? Family? Or perhaps with better company?" Blaise smiled tensely. 

"I am quite sure I have no clue what you mean," Daphne bristled. 

"Since when do you smoke?" Theo interrupted the war that was about to break out, he was speaking to Draco.

"I don't really, just in company," Draco put out his smoke on the windowsill. 

"Muggle?" Theo noted. 

"I don't supply," shrugged Draco. 

The group drifted into silence. Draco looked out the window, they still had a way until they arrived to the train station. Draco's stomach tightened into a painful coil as the train travelled on and on. Sweat started to prick the back of his neck. He felt sick, there was something wrong. Painfully wrong. Draco was offset by the simple wrongness he knew, he could sense with an instinct that was settled deep into his heart. 

There would be no warm fires with Draco sneaking a sip of wine from his mother's glass. Narcissa, pretending not to notice with an easy smile. Lucius reading, or answering his mail in his chair. Draco knew with a sureness that his home would be a hollowed out version. 

The compartment was silent with everyone in their own heavy thoughts. 

A knock interrupted their thoughts. The door slid open slowly. A short girl with light brown hair stood there. Astoria's knuckles tightened until they were white on the door. Her lips were tight when her eyes fell on Daphne. Daphne, sitting quiet cozily next to Draco, with her feet in his lap. 

"I've been looking for you," Astoria stayed in the doorway.

Daphne waved her off, "I've been here."

Astoria kept glancing at Draco. He made her uncomfortable, he supposed. She wouldn't enter the compartment, but she wanted something from Daphne. Did Draco's presence stop her? Was she scared of Draco to the point where she couldn't bear to be in the same room as her? 

Draco didn’t blame her. 

 

Draco did his best to push down his fear as the train gently stopped. The movements around him slowed, he was watching his movements from somewhere deep inside himself. He wished Potter was here, seeing him would make Draco feel better. Potter had only been away for two days and already Draco felt his absence. 

Daphne left quickly, she was already standing when the train stopped. Draco took his time, wanting to stay on the train until it reached the end on the line. He wanted to disappear until he could return to this train, but on the way back to Hogwarts, to Potter. Theo seemed as if he was about to vomit. Blaise couldn't take his eyes off of him. 

Draco gave them a moment alone. The students filed by him, smiles on their faces. Easy goodbyes filled the train as students left to meet their parents and siblings. 

Draco stepped off of the train steps. The warmth from the train left him as the icy chill from the outside whipped around him. There was laughter and joyous yells all around him. Laughter that he couldn't relate to. Children were wrapped in the arms of their parents. 

Draco couldn't find his mother's halo of white blond hair. He walked, passing by families of grinning faces. The cold seeped into his bones. He let the cold numb him. 

A hand stopped Draco, resting on his shoulder. Draco turned, a twisting sensation settled into his stomach. A beautiful woman had stopped him, but she wasn't his mother. 

"Mrs. Zabini," Draco greeted. 

"Draco," Mrs. Zabini greeted with a soothing voice. Her voice was deep, raspy, and wonderfully smooth. She wore an elegant set of green robes embroidered with elaborate beading, thick black fur lined the collar. Blaise had obviously gotten his looks, and his sense of style, from his mother. "Have you happened to have seen my son?" 

"He was just getting off of the train, he should be right here," Draco answered. 

"I would imagine so," Mrs. Zabini stated. Her hand hadn't moved from Draco shoulder. Her gaze held Draco's steadily. She squeezed his shoulder, her lips pinched slightly together. She wanted to tell him something.

"Mom?" 

Mrs. Zabini's smile enclosed her entire face. She rushed to her son, wrapping him in a warm hug. Blaise held his mother just as tightly, his face in her shoulder. They laughed and talked warmly as if they had just been a part for a day. They linked arms as they left to their home. 

Draco watched them go, a strange detachment taking over him. He continued looking for his mother. Walking by students being enclosed in their parents embraces. Families were collecting their luggage before leaving. Loud chatter continued around him before thinning into intimate conversations that Draco was circling around. 

He felt as if he was a ghost, he was a constant outsider looking in. A gust of cold wind looking in through the window of a warm house. 

The train station had become less crowded. Draco could easily make out Theo stepping down the steps and onto the platform. He seemed stoic in a fragile way. He had enclosed himself into his firm shell, into his protective armor to face his father. 

"Draco."

He turned around, Narcissa stood before him. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate knot on her head, she was wearing simple grey robes with no jewelry. She smiled hesitantly at him, her eyes hollow and dull. A painful twist settled into his stomach, ice enclosed his lungs. 

He pulled away whenever she reached for him. He just couldn't. He couldn't meet her eyes, he couldn't smile at her, tell her that he missed her. So many things he should do, but he couldn't give this piece of him to her. He couldn't let her think that he was anywhere near being able to face her, to smile at her warmly, with leaving a bile acid in his mouth and throat. He was hurting her, but he was still tenting to his wounds. 

Narcissa tensed when her son instantly pulled away from her touch. She didn't say anything. Instead, she took Draco's arm and with a step, they Apparated. 

 

The manor was no longer his home. The warmth had been bleed out. 

Draco laid on his bed looking up at the canopy. His room was warm, but only barely. His bedside lamp was the only source of light. 

His meals were served in his room, so he would not be a bother to the Malfoy's guess. Draco supposed this was his mother's way of protecting him. Out of sight, out of mind he supposed. 

He hadn't seen his mother since the day he had arrived. She could probably tell he was angry with her. But his feelings weren't that simple. 

He wished he could just be angry with her. Anger was simple, clear, understandable if unpredictable. Anger didn't come close to enclosing the feelings he had for his mother. 

She had hurt him. Hurt him in a way that thought Draco true and pure pain. Despite the trauma, he understood the reason behind her cruelty. There was a lesson he had to learn, and he had taken his lesson to heart. 

There has to be a twist in someone's soul to torture their young son. To be the hand that teaches them what pain really is. 

There has to be a strength in someone's soul to make their son strong. 

Narcissa was both of these things, twisted yet strong. 

The how was what Draco couldn't come to peace with. How could she do this to him? How could she torture him? How could she see what Draco was trying to do to himself that same night and not comfort him? She had distanced herself from him, he could reach her, no matter what he tried. He could allow himself to reach out, to close the distance that had grown between them. Draco had allowed this distance to fester, constantly pulling away from her. He was also at fault. 

But he couldn't make himself care. 

His father wasn’t much help either. He hadn't come to visit Draco in the three days that he has been here. Perhaps he could sense the coldness that had suddenly appeared between Draco and Narcissa, if he hadn't known about Narcissa's plans to train Draco. 

Perhaps Lucius was struggling with whatever task their Lord had given him. 

Perhaps Draco would be the one to bleed for his father's failures. 

Perhaps the Dark Lord would make an example of what happens whenever you fail him and put an end to Draco's misery. 

Perhaps Draco should get out of this fucking house. 

Draco rolled to his side, there was an emptiness behind his closed curtains. Night had already fallen. 

He was used to entertaining himself. His parents were not the sort of people for play. As a child, he thought all grownups didn't like to play, as he had gotten older, he discovered that his parents were simply distant people. 

His only friend as a child was Dobby. 

For as long as he could remember, Dobby was there. They would play hide and seek while his parents were preoccupied. Dobby would listen to Draco talk about school, Potter and his new broom. 

Whenever Potter had told Draco about Dobby's new residency at Hogwarts, relief had enveloped Draco. His father never had told him why Dobby was suddenly not a part of their family anymore. He had assumed the worst, as Dobby's family had been a part of the Malfoy's for generations. 

A knock distracted Draco form his activity of doing nothing. He ordered the house elf to enter, dinner was probably being served. Draco couldn't bother to remember the names of their house elves. After what happened to Dobby, he couldn't bring himself to without feeling as if he would be betraying Dobby. 

The house elf entered, Draco raised from his bed. He stopped upon seeing who was behind them. 

A cold sweat took over him as he swallowed, fear settling deep in his gut. 

"Father," his voice was steady despite his shivering. 

"Draco," his father greeted. 

His father probably seemed ever regal to the outside eye, but Draco knew better. With practiced perfection Lucius had pulled his hair back into a braid, his clothing was perfectly laced and embordered. However, Draco noted that he was leaning more heavily on his cane that he used for his knee. His eyes were dulled and his cheeks had sunken deeper into his face, making his cheekbones almost unnaturally prominent. Do to his carefully tailored robes, the fact that Lucius had lost weight was not hidden. The Dark Lord's presence in Malfoy Manor had taken a toll. 

"Are you gracing me with your presence for dinner Father?" Draco's voice was laced with sharp innocence. 

Lucius knew his son better than to take his words for face value. "Don't be coy Draco, it doesn't suit you," he snapped. 

Draco unsure fear quickly turned to a hot rod of anger in his stomach, "And I supposed you would know of unfit coyness, wouldn't you?" 

His father's knuckles turned white on his grip of his cane. 

Panic settled in Draco stomach, his teeth were on edge. 

"You're excused," Lucius hissed at the house elf, who excused themselves quickly, shutting the door quietly. 

Draco didn't budge, he needed his father to make the first move. The pair of them hadn't had a conversation in so long, Draco couldn't remember the last time they had talked alone. 

This cause a tightness in Draco' throat that he couldn't pass. He couldn't speak. He looked down at his feet, over at the steaming food on his desk, the curtains, the lavatory door. He looked anywhere except at his father. 

"Was there something you wanted to discuss?" Draco attempted to settle the tension between them. 

The muscles in Lucius's jaw clenched, his tongue worked over his teeth in an agitated manner. Nothing Draco said was going to make this gap between them any closer. 

"Yes, yes there is, actually," Lucius looked down, "something I want to discuss with you, that is." 

"What is it?" 

His father didn't answer quickly. Instead, he pinched his lips, his brow furrowed. "Can we sit?" he finally asked, rubbing his forehead. 

Draco hid his shock with a silent nod. 

They sat on Draco's large bed about a foot apart. Draco folded his hands in his lap, feeling out of touch within his own body. 

"Draco…there are certain…" Lucius paused to find the correct phrasing. Draco has never seen his father at a loss for words. Lucius swallowed. "There are certain duties that come with being a Malfoy." 

"Duties?" Draco croaked. What duties? 

"As one of the last pure blooded families in England, we are responsible for ensuring the purity continues for future generations," Lucius explained. "For a better promise for our legacy, Draco, you must take on this duties." 

Draco kept his face mildly curious, but his mind was working quickly. 

His father hadn't known of the warning Draco was given by his mother? What else didn't Lucius know? How many secrets were kept between Draco and his mother without Draco even knowing? Some part of him just assumed that his mother was acting under her husband's agency. 

"Part of these duties include continuing the family name, the family purity-"

Does he know about the torture Narcissa put Draco through? 

"With that in mind, we have decided to make arrangements-" 

Does he know how much information Draco has? 

"To ensure the legacy remains pure as intended by our forefathers-" 

How clueless is his father? 

"An engagement with the daughter of a well-respected family." 

The silence was what noted Draco that he was supposed to say something. 

"Who?" he asked, keeping his face in shock. 

"The eldest daughter of the Greengrass's." 

Draco wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. 

"When?" 

"Three days' time."

When Draco didn't say anything, his father stood. Draco noted how heavily his father rested on his cane, his knee was being troublesome. 

Draco leaned away from his father's attempted reach for his shoulder. Lucius dropped his hand. He made his way to the door. 

"He approves, I assume." 

Lucius tensed at the statement. The silence was Draco's answer. 

"I should get her something, would you arrange for Mother and I to attend to the shopping?" Draco called after his father as the door shut. 

 

He woke up three days after to the smell of his favorite breakfast. 

He had slept surprisingly well. No nightmares. No sleep sweats. No screams. 

How could he sleep so well? How could he stay calm in this situation? 

Did he inherit his unexpected resilience from his mother? 

Why did any of this matter? 

He was brushed aside by his parents. The betrothal ceremony would take place this evening in the Manor's grand hall. There was much to still plan. 

He hadn't gotten so much as a glance at the guest list, but he guessed. 

Daphne would be there, that's a fact. 

His parents, probably her parents. 

Their Lord. 

Fuck, this was going to suck. 

He wasn't hungry enough to eat. He let the food get cold as he got dressed in simple robes. Definitely not the robes he would wear to the ceremony this evening, those were hanging up in his wardrobe. He had spent three hours getting measured two days ago. His mother made sure very stitch was perfect. 

There was nothing for him to do. 

Nothing but to wait for the inviable. 

Waiting was terribly boring. 

But he was horribly talented at killing time, one of the benefits of being an only child. 

He walked around the gardens, along the high walls of the grounds. Mother, at his request, arranged for the ceremony to be placed outside in the gardens. Daphne would make her grand appearance by walking down the stairs, through the crowd to be presented to Draco as a debutante if he had remembered . 

The library was quiet. He ran his hand along the spines of the leather books, just has he had done has a child. 

Usually, every book was in their place along the bookshelves. Dobby had always put away the books that had been taken out unless specifically instructed otherwise. 

Which is why the layer of dust had caught Draco's eye. The house elf had been banned from the library. Not only the house elf, but probably his mother as well. Draco was sure his father didn't even know of a single dusting charm. 

Why? What was the secret so closely guarded? 

Draco investigated the stack of books on the large table in the center of the room.

Information on Prophecies, mostly. Some were records, records of the Hall of Prophecies. How did his father get these? This information wasn't public, but that was a loose term for a Malfoy. 

Draco studied the opened large book. The page showed a table. The date on the left side, on the right, shorthanded notes. 

His blood ran cold as he began to search for the two initials of the person who was always at the center of trouble. 

He almost was at the bottom of the page, he almost convinced himself that he had nothing to worry about, when he found the line of initials. 

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D  
Dark Lord  
and (?) Harry Potter

Draco hurried out of the library, his stomach twisting. His face hot with worry. What did this mean? Who were S.P.T and A.P.W.B.D? Why was his father researching this? Was he being ordered to by their Lord? 

Was Potter in danger? 

That was a stupid question, of course he was in danger, he attracted danger. Half the time he had caused the danger. Was he in any more danger that usual would be a better question.

A better question, but still a stupid one. 

Draco opened the library doors, the hall was dark despite the noon sun shining through the windows, as the heavy curtains had not been pulled apart. He shut the door behind him quietly. He made his way down the still, dark hallway hurrying quickly to the light at the end of the dark. 

Someone stepped into the entrance of the hall. Her blond hair seemed to shine in the sunlight shining through the large windows of the grand entrance. She was wearing pale blue robes, her long hair was flowing down past her shoulders. Pale skin was glowing. 

Her eyes widened, then relaxed as Draco came into focus. Daphne smiled brilliantly. He was enclosed into a tight hug around his shoulders. 

"Merlin, I've missed having someone sane to talk to," Daphne whispered into his ear. 

"I've never seen my mother this tense," Draco agreed. 

After Daphne pulled away from the embrace, she took his hand to lead him to the entrance way. Her blond hair flowed behind her, her hand was gloved in pale yellow. 

She let go of him whenever they were in sight of their parents. Draco's stomach dropped. 

Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were ordinary in appearance, but their backs were tight with stress. As Draco approached, he could see the fake smiles plastered onto their faces. They laughed painfully loud. They smiled too much. Complimented pathetically. They were trying too hard. They were scared. 

Scared of who? 

Draco's family? Or Draco himself? A strange man who was about to own their daughter?

He remained quiet out of respect for the nervousness of the situation. Daphne only blinked politely whenever spoken to, a tight lip smile on her face whenever strictly necessary. Astoria was quiet, tension rolling off of her as she kept her head down. 

Sounds dulled, Draco couldn't be bothered to pay attention. His parent's voices were laced with false happiness. Draco was filled with detached dread. 

 

Eventually, everyone dispersed. Draco was ordered to dress into the first of many layers of dress robes. Despite the fact that the ceremony wasn't for hours. 

He was bored, so he decided to get into trouble. 

He could guess what room his mother would place their guest in. He simply happened to go for a walk and simply happened to walk by the exact room where he strongly suspected that his future wife was getting ready. He also simply happened to throw a pebble at the window on the second floor of the manor. 

He also happened to throw another pebble. 

And another. 

And another. 

He was starting to feel stupid. 

The window opened, Daphne narrowly missed the pebble that Draco had already thrown. He shrugged at her raised eyebrows. 

She looked behind her, saying something that Draco couldn't hear, before looking down at Draco and miming smoking. He nodded. 

They met at the bottom of the stairs, Draco threw a pebble at her in greeting.

At the edge of the garden, along the wall that surrounded the grounds of the manor, a greenhouse was tucked away behind the rose bushes. The greenhouse hadn't been use in some time, the last time the tiny greenhouse had been used was before Draco was born. His great-grandmother had assembled the tiny shed. Lucius had refused to take it down out of an uncharacteristic sense of nostalgia. 

The greenhouse was ugly and dirty, but it was warm and supplied privacy for smoking. 

Draco and Daphne had managed to sneak away unnoticed, but they would be needed soon. They sat on a couple of large overturned pots, originally used for plants. Daphne had only plopped down on the make shift stool, unworried about the pale blue cloak she wore so often. Smoke curled along the ceiling as they bitched about their respected families. 

Draco looked at Daphne, for some reason, he had expected for her to look different on their betrothal day, more regal perhaps. Less like a girl and more like a woman about to be engaged. Graceful, like his mother. He supposed that was the naivety of being a man. She didn't seem any different, she was out of her usual school uniform. Besides that, she was simply herself. 

She hadn't suddenly grown in wisdom that his mother possessed. She hadn't suddenly become the perfect fiancé that adored him, or even just liked him. 

He hadn't suddenly become in love with her when he had woken up this morning. He hadn't suddenly enjoyed the idea of loving a woman instead of a man. He hadn't suddenly loved the idea of being the perfect family with her and their children. 

He didn’t love her. 

She didn’t love him. 

Somehow, that fact was comforting to both of them. 

Their hearts belong somewhere else, outside this house with the constricting walls. 

She smiled, "This is all pretty fucked up, right?" 

All he could stomach was a weak nod. He didn’t have whatever resilience needed to comfort himself, he couldn't carry any of her burden. 

He wished he could love her. He wished he could be the man who wouldn't slit her throat to save himself. 

He blew a puff of smoke towards the ceiling, "I don't feel like this will change anything, not at first, at least." 

Daphne snorted, "You're a man." 

"Oh, yeah," he spoke with all of his never ending wisdom. 

He dug into his pocket, trying to find one of the objects he had bought with his mother. "I thought I should get you something you would actually like," he gave the present to Daphne. 

She inspected the small, pale blue object. "Why? Am I going to hate what your mother got me?" She opened the blue zippo lighter, the flame coming with a snap. 

"It's not blue," he noted. 

"Hey, it can't be just any blue, I'm very particular about my shades," she corrected. 

"Well, you are marrying into the right family then." 

She stared into his eyes, quickly serious, "I promise I will stay true-" 

"Eh, that's not necessary." 

"-to my shade of blue." 

"Oh, thank Merlin," he relaxed. 

"I'm not a shade slut," she swore. Draco yelled in laughter, Daphne snorted while she shoved her hand over Draco's mouth. 

They continued to laugh, then cough through the smoke from their cigarettes.

"Amateur," Daphne laughed while Draco choked on his smoke. 

The door opening suddenly stopped Draco's laughter in his chest. 

Lucius stood in the doorway of the dirty shack. His noise was wrinkled in disgust, his lips tight in anger. 

"Draco," he growled. His eyes glancing between Draco, Daphne and the cigarettes. 

The silence was heavy between the three of them. Daphne, who apparently was suicidal, just continued smoking. 

The muscle in Lucius's jaw tensed, he had noted the aggressive calm Daphne was portraying. 

"Gentlemen," Daphne stood with grace Draco didn't think she possessed, "I will be on my way." 

She walked the couple of steps across the tiny greenhouse to the doorway where Lucius stood, still smoking. 

Daphne looked up at Lucius, challenging him with authority she didn’t have. 

Draco stayed where he was, he should stop this, but he couldn't move. 

"You-" Lucius fumed, "-best remember your place." 

He stood over Daphne, but she wouldn't back down. This was where the line was drawn. Who backed down first would have lost, both knew that wasn't acceptable. Lucius exhaled slowly when Daphne didn't move, his knuckles white on his cane. Daphne continued to smoke, a bored attitude around her. 

"You best remember yours," Daphne challenged the authority of the Malfoys, taking a drag of her smoke.

His hand was around her jaw. Daphne's back tensed as her jaw was gripped by Lucius, he brought her face to his, forcing her to balance on her toes. 

Draco stood, but his legs wouldn't move more than that. Old fears from angering his father stopped him. 

"You will remember your place in my home, girl," he hissed. 

Daphne's delicate hands shook as she took another inhale from her cigarette and blew the smoke directly into Lucius's face. 

Though Draco was enclosed in cold fear, his feet began moving before he could stop himself.

His father pushed her away roughly, hand raised to strike her. "How dare you, you insolent-" 

Draco was between them in an instant. 

The slap that was meant for Daphne stung against his cheek. 

He couldn't move. He heard Daphne gasp. Lucius froze, his hand still in the air. Lucius had never hit his son before. Daphne's breaths were the only thing Draco could hear against his rushing blood. Lucius lowered his hand as Draco faced him. He swallowed his anger down so that it coiled hotly in his stomach. 

"Draco-" Daphne whispered behind him, her hand grazing his arm. 

"I think you should go," Draco dismissed her. She gazed between him and his father, a question obvious in her eyes. She left quickly. 

Draco had never had his father unable to meet his eyes before. "Keep your hands to yourself," Draco ordered before leaving.


	11. Chapter 11

The worst part was the glances. 

On the train. In the halls. The classroom. Eyes followed his movements. Careful smiles met him everywhere he went. Circling him, waiting for something he couldn't guess. Wolves stalking their prey, while remaining hidden in the trees. 

Draco rushed into History, hurrying to shake off the glances being sent his way by anyone who knew of his betrothal. He took his usual seat at the back of the classroom. The seat next to him remained empty. He was one of the few students here this early. 

He kept glancing at the students who passed him by, he couldn't help himself, but he made himself seem busy by opening his notes and textbook. He hadn't seen Potter at all for breakfast. Where was he? Surely Potter had returned from the winter break, but why hadn't he reached out? Had Draco done something to anger Potter, or reject him in any way? The pair hadn't seen each other for weeks now, how could have Draco done something wrong? Maybe Draco was over reacting, Potter skipping breakfast wasn't too unusual. 

Students milled in, talking about what they did over the winter break. Smiles were shared between friends that Draco couldn't relate to. Smile at a friend and have a knife to your throat just as fast, or a slap by a loved one.

Being constantly surrounded by those who only wish to do Potter harm had forced Draco to face how dangerous this situation was. A constant twisting had settled into his chest. Draco wasn't privy to the inner workings of the web. His Lord hadn't even made an appearance at Draco's betrothal. Gaining information in that house was trying to theorize how dust would settle biased on air patterns.

Draco bit his lip. He worked to hide his concern by unpacking his bookbag. Whispers about him could start with even just a glance. Draco kept an eye out for a head of unruly hair. 

The air had stirred. Movements in the shadows. Glances over wine. Hushed whispers behind closed doors. Draco could see but he wasn't allowed to watch. The Dark Lord had begun to spin his web. How was the question, but everyone knew what the goal was. To catch and devour Potter. Draco would only be able useless to help. 

"Malfoy," a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Draco looked up from his textbook. Pansy was sliding into her seat. 

Pansy, appearing perfectly normal. Her eyes weren't rolled deep into her head. Black foam wasn't leaking out of her mouth. Blood wasn't seeping from her chest. There was no sign of the torture Draco had put her through with a single push down a couple of steps. Her long black hair was perfectly brushed, her uniform in place. 

"Pansy," Draco greeted as she took her seat next to him, his voice shook, he swallowed. 

"How do you like the married life?" Pansy leaned back into her seat, crossing her legs. 

"Betrothed," Draco corrected. 

She shrugged, "Same thing, really." 

"You look well," he ignored the previous comment, his stomach tightening at the implication.

The corner of her lip turned upward, "You should have seen my mother yelling, red-faced at the healers about making sure I don't scar." 

"You were awake?" 

"No, I just know my mother," she grinned. 

Draco huffed in sympathetic laughter, "I'm sure you could have pulled them off, they would have made you look dangerously mysterious." 

"Why must you imply that I don't already look dangerously mysterious?" Pansy sighed, leaning her chin into her hand. 

"You don't have any scars, scars automatically make someone seem mysterious," Draco argued, the banter loosening the tightness in his chest. 

"Scars?" Pansy raised her eyebrows. 

"I don't make the rules." 

"Scars make someone handsome?" she baited. 

"I didn't say handsome exact-"

"I think you're speaking from a place of bias," she pointed out, circling the area in the middle of her forehead. 

"I'm sure I have no clue what you're talking abo-" 

Potter didn't even glance at him as he walked by. 

Draco's breath stopped in his throat. Draco tried to ignore the pounding in his chest. He tried to ignore the heat that spiked in his face and the twist in his stomach when Potter didn't try to slip a smile his way. Seeing Potter again after almost two weeks was like scratching an itch that only got worst. Draco had to talk to him, had to see him, had to have Potter around him. 

He ignored the look Pansy gave him, he also ignored the unsightly gestures she kept making throughout the lecture. His skin was itching to talk to Potter. How was he? Why did he leave Hogwarts early for break? Questions wouldn't leave Draco's thoughts, and he couldn't answer these questions or logically explain them. He was stuck in his own swirl of thoughts and concerns. Draco was forced to pay attention in class. He would compare the experience to pulling his own teeth out with a spoon through his eyes.

"Daphne has been acting awfully strange lately, is there any reason why?" Pansy whispered mid-way through the lecture. 

Draco tried not to roll his eyes, he wasn't sure if he exceeded. "I wouldn't know, we aren't talking." 

"You know what I heard?" she further baited. Draco remained silent, she never needed any prompting. 

"Well…" she continued, leaning in closely, "I didn't particularly heard anything, so much as saw something concerning with your fiancé."

Draco's interest was piqued, Pansy did gossip, but she had an uncanny ability to always find the truth. "My fiancé?" he asked, still not looking over at her. 

"Yes, you would never guess who I caught her talking to in the hall earlier today."

"Someone good if you decided to wait until now to tell me," he snapped, a twist off worry settled in his spine. 

"Someone very interesting indeed," she bit her lip. She was looking at Draco, studying him, trying to guess what he would do with this information. 

"Is this mysterious someone important enough to tell her betrothed?" his jaw was so tense that it was painful. 

"After this, we're even, deal?" Pansy didn't want to be in debt to Draco. Owing a favor could be tricky if you don't set the terms yourself. 

"Is it worth me giving up a favor?" Draco investigated. 

Pansy gave a smile that only she could give. She leaned into Draco's space, cupping her hand around her mouth as she whispered, "Your fiancé was talking rather intimately to none other than Harry Potter in the halls this morning." 

 

 

Class ended, Draco stood, his back already packed, ready to follow Potter to lunch. Everyone was ready to leave, they hurried out of the hell that was history class, Potter was lost in the crowd. Pansy pulled Draco back into his seat. 

"I'll see you at lunch Pansy," he dismissed over his shoulder as he shrugged off her grip. 

Draco had put in some effort not to rush after Potter like some love sick girl, which he wasn't, no matter how much he rushed. 

Potter was surrounded by his shadows, he was never apart from him. Draco had to find a way to take Potter away from them, just for a moment. The three had drifted away from the usual bustle of students on their way to lunch, which is how Draco managed to catch up to the trio so easily. 

They seemed to be whispering among themselves. This wasn't the best time to talk to Potter, he should just walk by and not draw any attention to himself. 

He couldn't. The possibility of just seeing Potter drove him forward with a force of excitement he didn't know he had. 

This was a horrible idea, he was being too obvious, he needed to stop. 

He was already close enough that Granger, Weasley and Potter had all turned to him. He should say something, something clever, something that would tell Potter he needed to speak to him in private. 

"Screw you, Potter," he barked. Merlin, he was an idiot. He shouldered Potter roughly as the elbowed his way in between the group like a proper ass. Potter gave him a face that would be expected in such a situation. Draco took it to mean something along the lines of, 'What the fuck?' Draco gave him a face that meant, 'I'm sorry I'm an idiot, but I have no idea what I am doing.'

Draco was facing Potter while he was acting an ass around him and his friends, so didn't see Weasley shove Draco in the back with strength Draco wouldn't expect from the thin boy. Draco stumbled several steps forward, almost falling down but managing to steady himself. He turned, "What the ever loving shit are you thinking, Weasley?" 

Weasley was already stomping towards Draco, his face was red, but his eyes were confident. He had left his bookbag on the floor next to Granger, who was yelling something Draco wasn't paying attention to. Potter was scampering after his friend, trying to talk him down, but Weasley wasn't listening to sense. Weasley looked pissed. Beyond pissed, he seemed furious, Draco was right now the focus of that furry. 

"Oh, what are you going to do? Are you finally going to stop hiding behind your older brothers?" Draco baited, Weasley had always challenged Draco verbally. 

Weasley proceeded to punch Draco in the nose, hard. 

Pain blistered into Draco's cheeks, his jaw. The snap of his neck sent Draco's center of balance buzzing. Blood slipped into Draco's mouth as he gasped deeply. 

"Merlin, Weasley, what the fuck?" he yelled. His head hit the wall as he was pushed by a fist around his collar. 

"Ron, Ron stop it! He didn't do anything!" Potter pulled Weasley off of Draco. 

Draco tried to catch the blood from his nose, the copper taste on his tongue as he breathed through his mouth. Weasley stared at him as Potter pulled him away. 

"What did I do?" Draco's voice was quiet, but Potter gave him a quick sympathetic look. His nose pulsed so hard Draco felt the pain in his jaw.

He was too shocked to be angry. His face hurt too much to yell. Draco watched as Potter turned away from him to follow Weasley down the hall, Granger not far behind. Draco cupped the blood coming out of his nose, his head still buzzing.

Draco felt a slender hand on his shoulder, cupping his cheek. 

"Merlin, Malfoy, what did you do?" Pansy tusked, her eyebrows knitted together. 

Draco stared were Potter dragged Weasley away. "I was an ass, the usual," he shrugged her off. 

They walked to lunch. Pansy didn't ask for more clarification, a mercy. Draco had to dodge Pansy's attempt at a healing spell, cupping his pulsing nose as he elbowed Pansy's wand away from his face. Healing spells required a certain softness that Draco was sure Pansy lacked. 

He could feel eyes on him, eyes that have been studying him since he returned from break. Chuckles filled the Gryffindor table as Draco walked by. The trio were already sitting at their table, Weasley was being pat on the back by one of the twins, but he only tightened his jaw as he glared at Draco. 

Draco took his seat. Crabbe and Goyle pointedly looked down at their plates, not commenting on the blood that was still flowing from Draco's face onto his shirt. Daphne didn't look up from her copy of the Profit. Theo snorted. With a roll of his eyes Blaise snapped his wand to heal Draco's nose. 

Warmth spread from his nose to his forehead, easing the headache he didn't realized he had. Draco nodded in thanks before beginning his lunch. 

"What do you do to earn you that?" Theo broke the silence that had encircled the Slytherin table. 

"What he usually does, he was an asshole to Weasley," Pansy supplied. 

"Weasley gave you that?" Blaise snorted. 

"You should have seen his face whenever Granger punched him in third year," Goyle chimed in with a mouthful of food, which he nearly choked on whenever Draco shot him a glare. 

"What made Weasley finally grow a pair?" Crabbe jostled. 

"His father almost died over the break, that’s what," Daphne snapped. 

Pansy sneered, "He probably almost keeled over because of the stress of raising a littler of weasels on a penny a day." 

Daphne's lips tightened, she tossed the Profit down onto the first page. Draco's heart slammed into his stomach as he recognized the article from this morning. 

"Your guess is as good as mine," Daphne rose from her seat, her plate not even touched. She turned her back, leaving them in their shame that they all carried, but for different reasons.

The front page, the entire front page, were articles of the ten missing Death Eaters from Azkaban. 

Pansy visibly swallowed when she looked away from the newspaper. Tense silence gripped the students. Daphne was bold, she was painfully bold. She would shove her point into your face whenever the subject had even been acknowledged, but carefully ignored. 

She was tenacious. 

She was reckless. 

She was being stupid. 

Draco followed her out of the Great Hall and into the connecting hallways, taking the Profit with him. He caught up with her easily, she wasn't trying to get away from him. Daphne's hair almost glowed with the sunlight peeking out from behind the usual clouds through the windows of the small hallway they found themselves in. Away from the eyes that had followed the both of them since they were forced into engagement. She turned to face him, her lips tight, stubborn.

How could she be expected to handle herself? How was she handling the questions that weren't being asked? Their engagement was open, yet private. Everyone knew, but only but whispers in the corners, never out loud. 

Draco was given distance after his betrothal. No one had tried to comfort him, or talk to him about the role he was being forced to take. He was being forced into this, just as Daphne. Why didn't she recognized this? 

He shoved the Profit into her chest, his frustration in the motion. "Don't do that again," he growled. 

"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped. 

"Don't be stupid," he stated, his voice steady despite the heat in his chest. 

"I don't need you to take care of me. I'm not yours." 

Daphne had seen firsthand what his family, what his father, was like. How cruel they could be in their tempers. Draco couldn't even warn her at this point, she knew. She knew what she was marrying into. The distance between them had only grown. Draco hadn't yet been able to comfort her. 

They were outsiders in their own lives. 

He took a breath, his shoulders relaxed. Daphne's anger had a source, a source which Draco could trace. "Daphne, please, I'm trying my best here," he softened his face, his voice. 

"I'm not so easily manipulated Malfoy," she challenged. 

"I'm not trying to manipulate you, just realize that we are in this together," he begged. He reached for her, gently holding her hand. He tilted his head, his expression soft. Daphne took a breath, looking down at her feet. "I know I'm asking you to trust me, but at this point we don't have any options." 

Daphne looked up at him. Her eyes were bright with frustration, but she squeezed his hand anyway. 

Footsteps hurried around the corner, followed by a gasp. Daphne pulled away from Draco as if she was burnt. Draco caught the glance of two recognizable green eyes. 

"What do you want, Potter?" he sneered instantly. He could see Daphne rolling her eyes out of the corner of his eye.

"Just friends, huh?" Potter argued. 

Draco's blood froze, they never talked freely in front of someone before. He blinked. Potter was talking to him, for the first time in weeks they could talk. "What?" Draco opened with. 

"You two are just friends? Why would you say that if it's not true?" he pointed out. 

Draco broke into a sweat, his stomach turned as he looked to Daphne. She didn't have this information, Draco hadn't intended on sharing this. "Potter, let's go somewhere private to talk ab-" 

"What does it matter anyway? You've already told her about Dumbledore's Army," Potter interrupted. 

"Shut up, Potter!" Daphne hissed, "or do you want the entire school to know?" 

How did Potter know that? What did Daphne tell him? Why would she even bother with telling Potter? Daphne had nothing to gain from showing her hand to Potter. Unless-

"You blackmailed him?" Draco realized out loud. "You forced him to let you join didn't you? Do you know how utterly stupid you're being right now?" 

"Don't you pretend this isn't what you wanted Draco, you've been manipulating me to join since you and Potter became pals," Daphne snapped. 

"Is that all you wanted from me?" Potter asked, walking down the hall to the couple. 

Draco studied Potter, his eyes were bright with a steady vulnerability. Potter was prepared to be hurt. Potter swallowed, Draco's hesitancy to answer was an answer within itself. Draco would have to be honest if he wanted to keep his friendship with Potter, even if that means showing is cards to Daphne. 

"Of course it's not," Draco answered quietly, making this moment just for Potter, even if they had an audience. Draco touched Potter's shoulder, resting his hand, trying to steady both himself and Potter. "We're friends, Potter," Draco promised. 

Potter swallowed before nodding, "Yeah, we are, aren't we." Potter stepped away from Draco grasp, "I have to go, they'll be wondering where I'm at." Potter took slow steps backwards, his gaze never leaving Draco's. 

Potter faced Daphne, "Don't be late, I know you Slytherins like to make an entrance, but behave yourself." 

Daphne nodded, but she remained silent. 

Potter turned back to Draco, "I'll see you later, yeah? Same time, same place?" he didn't bother to wait for an answer before he turned around, making his way back to the Great Hall. 

Draco watched him go, his stomach fluttering. 

Daphne had her eyebrows raised, her cheeks puffed as she blew out a slow breath. 

"Don't say anything," Draco stated. 

"What the fu- holy shit, Draco," Daphne grinned. 

"Stop it." 

"I- I just can't believe, what? How? When?.... Shit," Daphne eloquently explained. 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just leave it," he begged. 

"This is so great." 

"I'm going to leave now," he dismissed himself. 

"Go ride his broomstick!" Daphne yelled after him. He quickened his walk. 

 

Draco arrived to the Room of Requirement almost an hour early, he couldn't help it. Potter's present had been carefully tucked underneath Draco's arm while he hurried down the darken quiet halls. Despite the unsettling silence of the hallways, Draco smile wouldn't leave his face. He was going to see Potter again, and soon, at Potter's suggestion. 

Potter wanted to see Draco. Why would he suggest that they meet if Potter didn't enjoy, to some degree, Draco's company? Potter suggested that they meet even after the upset over Daphne. 

Potter had missed Draco. 

This knowing he was missed, that he was wanted, sent flutters in his stomach. 

Draco's chest swelled whenever he saw the door, appearing before him in an enthusiastic greeting. He hurried to the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he opened the door. 

The room was the same as always, comforting familiar. The fire was lit, the couch was a deep shade of yellow tonight, but the chairs that usually sat on either side where nowhere to be seen. 

Draco crossed the warm, small room, untying his black cloak and laying the fabric on the cloak rack suddenly provided next to the fireplace. He then place the flat present wrapped in red paper on the low table suppled between the couch and the fireplace. 

This would be the first thing Potter notices when he enters. Perhaps Draco should hide the box to allow for a reveal? Or was that too dramatic? 

Where would he, in theory, hide the present? There was no easy hiding spots within the room, no furniture or wardrobe- 

A large wooden wardrobe appeared in the middle of the room. 

"As if that's not obvious," he scowled. 

The wardrobe shrunk to about Draco's height. 

Draco stood to investigate. "This is not any better," he dismissed. 

The wardrobe shrunk to six inches tall. 

"Someone's got an attitude." 

The wardrobe disappeared, so did the present. 

"Oi!" he snapped. The present reappeared on the table. 

"Oh…" Draco noted, "okay, yeah, let's do that then." 

He sat back down. Stood back up. Sat pack down. This was the danger in arriving early, Draco hated waiting. He laid down on the couch, a pillow appearing as he rested his head. Draco watched the fire swirl and burn. 

There was no celebrations over the winter break with the cold stones of the Malfoy Manor. There was no breakfast in the magically warmed gardens. No reading by the fire. No laughter of guest over glasses of wine and mead. 

His mother wouldn't even look at him after the betrothal ceremony. His father kept his gaze steadily cool as if daring Draco to challenge his authority further. Severus was there that day, standing next to Father. Severus wore dark navy robes instead of his usual black, Draco had never seen him wear color before. Severus offered no comfort, not even a nod in Draco's direction. 

He knew there was another reasoning behind the gathering of Draco's betrothal. The men had quickly locked themselves in the West Hall. The West wing had become His wing. Their Lord was giving orders, giving orders to what Draco now known to be the Azkaban breakout. 

He would finally meet his Aunt. 

Draco had been surrounded by his family, yet he had never felt so isolated. 

A log broke in the fire, perhaps the room was trying to ensure Draco knew that he wasn't alone here. 

Daphne had looked beautiful. She wore the traditional white, her hair braid elaborately, smelling faintly of tobacco. Her eyes cold. 

Daphne, so strong yet scared. She had been right, Draco had been manipulating her this entire time. He now had enough power over her to ensure his own safety, but she had also gained a dangerous amount of insight into his life. They had their wands raised, both ready to strike if the other steps out of line, a deadly game to play. Trust could get you killed. 

Draco didn't have a choice, Daphne was smart, she could probably outwit Draco if they were on equal footing, but he still had the advantage his status brought him. He would use whatever he could if she wavered in loyalty. 

"Hey," a familiar voice broke Draco away from those thoughts. Potter smiled as he looked down at Draco from over the couch. 

"Potter, you're early," Draco greeted. 

Potter huffed, walking around the couch to sit next to Draco. Draco pulled his legs to his chest to allow room. "Look who's talking, when did you get here?" 

Draco shrugged, "Not your concern, Potter," he baited. 

"I like it," Potter bit his lip. 

"Like what?" 

"I like to know that you're here, waiting," Potter's dark completion didn't allow for him to blush, but Draco knew him well enough to know that Potter's ears were warming. 

Draco's own neck was warming, his chest was fluttering, he started to play with his hands. "That's just because you missed me," he tried to ease this embarrassed energy between them. 

"Of course I did," Potter confided. 

Draco stared at Potter, Potter wouldn't look away. Draco wished they were closer, wished that he was close enough to see the flecks of hazel in Potter's eyes. Wished they were close enough for Draco to lean in.

He should tell Potter how much he missed him. Tell him how Draco counted the days until he could simply glance at him. Tell him how he has kept all of the notes passed between them. Tell him how he has kept a clipping for Potter from the Daily Profit from the tournament last year that makes him seem handsome. Tell him how scared Draco is for him. Tell him of all the dangers that wait for Potter, damn the consequences. Tell him that Draco hopes more than anything that teaching Potter Occlumency will be enough to help Potter win this war that is coming from all sides. 

The silence had been growing too long. Why couldn't he bring himself to speak? Say what? What could he say? He needed to change the subject, he couldn't tell Potter those things, he couldn't even say them to himself. How could he possibly change the subject? 

A flat box wrapped in red paper appeared on Draco's bent knees. 

Both of the boys jumped, Draco scrambled to catch the falling box. Potter scurried over to help. 

Draco caught the box, Potter's face ended dangerously close to Draco's. The pair froze, their faces only a couple of inches apart. 

Draco watched as Potter looked down at his lips, heat coiled low in Draco's abdomen and along his spine. A breath escaped his lips. Gentle finger tips brushed against his jaw. He held his breath. Fingers travel from his jaw to his cheek. 

"Does it hurt?" Potter whispered, he was so close Draco felt the breath of his words on his lips. 

His mind remains blank before Draco realizes what Potter is asking. "No, someone healed it up quickly," he answered. 

"Daphne?" Potter pulls away, the warmth from his touch gone. 

"What? No. Why does it matter anyway?" Draco investigated. 

"Why did you tell her about the DA?" Potter questioned. 

"I told you earlier, I didn't, she found out on her own," he defended. 

Potter huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. That was never a good sign. "Why do you get to tell your friends about us?" 

Draco rubbed his head, "She's not my friend, Potter." 

"Really? It doesn't seem that way." 

"What would it matter anyway?" Draco avoided. 

"Because you said you were just friends," argued Potter. 

"What does it matter if Daphne and I are more than just friends?"

Potter swallowed, "It just does."

"Why?" Draco was losing his patience.

"Because!" 

"Why do you even care, Potter? What, are you jealous?" Draco snapped. 

Potter didn't say anything. His silence was enough of an answer. Draco instantly regretted this complication in their relationship, some things were better not spoken about. There had to be a way out, Draco could bend this situation to his needs. 

"Jealous that I can talk to girls, that is," he opened. Potter looked at him, Draco hoped Potter would allow this moment to pass. Draco couldn't risk where this conversation, this admission that whatever is between them is there, could take them. 

"Cho hasn't really wanted to talk much," Potter allowed. 

"It seems that she wants to talk a lot, it's you that doesn't want to talk," Draco observed. 

Potter scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… It's just not easy with her, not like it is with you." 

"Potter, we were just arguing not two minutes ago. I wouldn't say I'm the easiest person to talk to," Draco teased. 

Potter shoved him in the shoulder, "Don't give yourself all the credit, Draco, I'm just as argumentative." 

Draco laughed, actually laughed, for the first time in weeks. Potter grinned, proud of himself. 

Draco sighed, his chest light. "Give her time, Potter, she's grieving, and so are you." 

Potter tensed, his knuckles white. "I, I know that but," Potter swallowed, "there's just so much to do. I don't have time to…" he went silent. 

"You don't have time to talk about it," Draco offered, his chest hurting for Potter. 

"Yeah," Potter nodded, looking down. "You know Arthur Weasley was attacked, right?" 

Draco made sure to keep his face calm, "I read about it in the papers, he's going to make a full recovery, correct?" 

"Yeah, he'll be fine, but," Potter face twisted, "I… saw it happen." 

Silence was Draco's answer, terror settled in his stomach as the pieces fell together. 

"I was his snake," Potter shared, "His snake attacked Mr. Weasley, and I saw the attack happen through his snake." 

Potter's voice was shaking, "I could feel Mr. Weasley skin break, I could taste his blood. And I liked it, I liked seeing his fear," a dry sob broke his voice, "Draco, I don't know what to do." 

Draco reached out to Potter, taking his hand. "I'll keep teaching you Occlumency, Potter. I already talked to Professor Dumbledore about it. We'll figure this out, okay?" he comforted. Potter nodded, meeting Draco's gaze, trust was in Potter's gaze. 

Trust was dangerous. 

"I got you something," Draco let go off Potter, handing him the small box. 

"What's this?" Potter asked. 

"You have to open it, that's the point." 

"Draco, did you get me a Christmas present?" Potter smiled. 

Draco blushed at Potter's smile, "We don't actually celebrate Christmas, most pure-bloods follow the old traditions, but sure. Happy Christmas, Potter." 

"It's Merry Christmas, but thanks," Potter corrected. The paper ripped easily to reveal a black box, Potter lifted the lid to reveal two small mirrors framed in simple dark wood. "There's no reason to remind me of my good looks, Draco. I know I'm good looking." 

"Merlin, shut up," Draco leaned over to take one of the mirrors. "They're two way mirrors, idiot, so that we can talk to each other without raising suspicion," he explained. 

Potter stared down at his mirror. "I didn't get you anything." 

"Don't be daft, Potter, you don't need to get me anything," Draco dismissed. He had figured Potter wouldn't get him anything. 

"Here," Potter shoved a small object into Draco's hand. 

"What's this?" Draco inspected the object. 

"It's a Penknife, my godfather gave it to me," Potter explained. 

"Potter I can't accept this." 

"I want you to have it, Draco, please." 

Draco sighed, "Okay, who's your Godfather anyway?" 

"Sirius Black." 

Draco blinked, "The fuck?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super late update, the last three weeks have been crazy with tons of stuff. One of those things was that I got engaged!!!! 
> 
> Comments are loved and cherished forever.


	12. Chapter 12

"Degree number twenty-six will take effect immediately," Severus sulked, his displeasure obvious as he lectured. "The degree will prohibit instructors and professors from discussing matters outside of the subjects pertaining to our lessons." His chilling stare swept across the dark classroom. "Any questions?" he asked.

Every student remained silent as the news soaked in. The new limits placed on their relationships with their mentors. How every move made had started to be watched and now censured. Their every lives, the people they look up to, the people that gave them the tools to help them succeed, were being limited by an outsider looking in. 

No one said anything. 

Draco felt a twist in his stomach, the Ministry's hold on Hogwarts was tightening like a cobra squeezing the life out of prey. The feeling of claustrophobia at an unseen force settled in his lungs. 

Severus sighed, breaking the silence, "Very well-" 

"Yes, um, Professor?" Potter's voice called from behind Draco in the back of the class. 

"Potter, what wonderous wit will you grace us with today?" Severus rolled his eyes. 

"Are questions allowed, sir?" Potter asked, his fake innocence lacing his voice. 

"If I asked for questions, Potter, they are allowed. Surely you can piece that together, or perhaps Quidditch as caused you permanent damage," Severus dismissed. 

"My apologies professor, I can see where you got confused," Potter back handed. "What I meant sir, is that this discussion isn't directly related to our lesson today, so are questions allowed? Or is discussing this and opening the discussion for question in conflict with degree twenty-six?" Draco could hear the smile that he knew Potter now wore. 

Severus's lips tightened, "Sass is not allowed in my class, Potter." 

"Really? I couldn't tell, my apologies Professor," Potter lied innocently. 

"Interrupting your instructor, means for detention, Potter. I will see you after dinner tonight and fifty points from Gryffindor."

"I can't tonight, Professor, I'm actually booked until May, but I can try to squeeze you in before the end of March." 

Draco snorted, turning it into cough whenever Severus turned his glare to him. 

"Of course, sir, you could always discuss my detention with Umbridge," Potter challenged. 

Severus and Potter glared at each other. 

Silence. 

"Back to the lesson today…" Severus continued to lecture. 

Draco had to hide his smile behind his heavy potions textbook. 

After Severus finished his lecture, the class paired up into groups of two to perform the potion. The class broke into their usual groups. Pansy stood to gather the ingredients from the storage closet while Draco began the light the fire underneath the cauldron. 

"Parkinson, let us not have a repeat of last semester, shall we?" Severus interjected. "Malfoy, perhaps you are more sure footed than Parkinson on a couple of stairs." 

Draco stood as Pansy turned red in her face and returned to their shared table, taking out her wand. He quickly turned to gather the ingredients, ignoring the heat that suddenly encompassed his back and neck as Pansy almost exploded the cauldron in heat from her spell.

The collective gasp of the students wasn't enough for Severus to correct Pansy's outburst, perhaps Severus was worried about her directing her embarrassment into anger. Perhaps Severus was too busy glaring at Draco to notice. 

He hurried into the storage closet, pushing by the other students trying to do the same. Severus hadn't reached out to Draco since the night of Potter's outburst, but Draco new his godfather well enough to know when he was getting ready to strike. He quickly collected the ingredients necessary, milling around the other students. The small storage closet seemed extra crowded as Severus was standing in the doorway, observing from over his nose his eyes never leaving Draco. 

Draco made his way to the exit, the very spot where he shoved Pansy to a torturous solution to a horrid situation. 

Severus's hand blocked his way, he loomed over the doorway, his arm across the opening. Draco stopped, stepping back in shock. Severus didn’t say anything has he leveled his glare on Draco, who couldn't bring himself to speak. Silence encompassed the claustrophobic storage closet as every set of eyes settled on them and their odd behavior. 

A body slipped by Draco's right side, a familiar smell passed him. 

"Excused me, Professor," Potter braved through the tension in the room. 

The pair continued to level their gazes. Severus pulled his hand away from the doorway slowly, allowing Potter through. Draco hurried to follow, only to have a cold hand lay on his shoulder. 

"See me after class, Malfoy," Severus stated simply, his hand disappearing from Draco's shoulder. 

Pansy was tapping her fingers on the table by the time Draco returned with his arms full of bottles. 

"I'll start cutting the roots, you adjust the temperatures of the cauldron," Pansy instructed, gathering the supplies from Draco's arms. Then cutting the tough roots into even pieces. Draco cast a cooling charm on the cauldron, attempting to find just the right temperature to begin seeping the roots. The class settled into busy silence as everyone worked on the complicated potion. Pansy and Draco broke into their easy routine they had built from working together for so long. 

A gentle elbow caught his attention, he looked over at Pansy, who was now seeping the roots. "What did you do to piss off Snape? You're his golden boy, after all," she hissed. 

Severus was in the back of the class, probably making one of the other students cry. He was out of earshot. 

"He knows I pushed you down the stairs," Draco told only the half-truth. He suspected Severus was pissed about a number of things Draco had been doing. 

"Why does he care? It's not like he has been to most sympathetic to my situation," Pansy noted. 

"Did you know that he's single?" Draco prompted. 

"What does that have to do with anyth-" 

"He might be looking for a young bride, someone to continue his legacy," he shrugged. 

"Malfoy, if you're saying what I think you're saying…" she warned. 

"I'm not saying anything," Draco shrugged, his eyes to the ceiling, a sly smile on his lips, "just that he might be disappointed that he wasn't promised a wife over the winter break." 

Pansy's face redden, her lips tight. At least Draco had managed to distract her from putting the pieces together. 

"You would make beautiful, greasy children," Draco joked, biting his lip to stop from laughing.

Her silence cause a twist of fear in his stomach. 

He kept his sight down on the leaves he was chopping, but he could feel the heat of Pansy's glare on his face. 

He wouldn't blink though. 

Pansy remained silent next to him. 

He blinked. 

"Pansy…" he investigated. 

Pansy held his gaze. She was pissed.

He was scared. "Listen, I-" he started. 

Pansy turned around toward the back of the class, one hand on her hip. 

Oh shit. 

"Po-tter!" she singed across the classroom. 

"No yelling, Parkinson!" Severus yelled. 

Potter turned, confused. Pansy crossed her arms, leaned against the table, an innocent smile on her mouth. 

"You know that if you unzipped your pants- "she tilted her head in Draco's direction- "he would be the first on his knees." 

Draco nearly chopped his finger off. 

Potter opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened. Weasley was about to piss himself he was laughing so hard. Severus rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Huh… that's nice," Potter's shaky voice answered her. 

Pansy gave him a causal shrug, "Just thought you should know, sweetie," she winked. Her face was stone when she turned back to Draco, "Don't pull that shit with me again." 

"Yeah, no problem," Draco managed to choke out. 

"Parkinson, detention," Severus growled, having crossed the room. 

"My apologies, Professor," she continued to seep the root as if she hadn't just cause literal hell for the rest of Draco's life. 

"Weasley, perhaps you will find this situation amusing from detention," Severus snapped at Weasley's continued laughter. 

"Professor, I am sure I will," Weasley whipped a tear from his eye, still giggling. 

Draco wanted to die. 

The classroom returned to silence, with only the occasional choked chuckle. Draco had to refrain from stabbing himself in the stomach so he could be excused from class. Severus probably wouldn't let him go. 

Class continued. Their potion was perfect, much to Severus's distain. 

"I'll see you later," Pansy fare welled as she left the classroom. 

Draco watched her leave, he could probably hex her and get away with it. Potter caught his gaze, Draco's face heated, his stomach flipping inside out. Potter gave him a small smile before turning away to leave. 

The class emptied, leaving only Severus and Draco. 

Severus sat at his desk, reading over the individual reports from each student, not acknowledging Draco's requested presence. He walked to the large, dark wooden desk. Standing before Severus, who was still ignoring him. 

"You wanted to speak with me Professor?" he prompted. 

Severus looked up from his paperwork. Glaring at Draco for interrupting his paperwork, before looking down to finish grading the report. 

Draco shallowed down the tension in his throat, he wasn't used to having his godfather be displeased with him. His hands started to sweat, what did he do wrong now? His cheek itched from the past disappointment from his father, he wasn't sure he could handle having his mentor be frustrated at him as well. 

Severus finished grading the paper in front of him. He folded his hands on the desk, finally looking up at Draco. "I wish to discuss your involvement with Harry Potter," he started. 

Draco's jaw clenched, but he kept his face neutral at the inquiry. "What would you like to know?" he opened. 

"How are Occlumency lessons?" 

"Fine, he is making progress," Draco was purposely vague. 

"How much progress?" Severus insisted. 

"Adequate." 

"Adequate…" 

Draco sighed internally, "Yes, adequate." 

Severus leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the arms. "Is 'adequate' enough to risk your life?" 

Draco ran his tongue over his teeth. 

"Answer me," Severus ordered. 

"No," he answered, "it's not." 

Severus leaned back in his chair, still breathing heavily in anger. He ran a hand over his face. "Perhaps," he started quietly, "perhaps it is best that I take on teaching Potter." 

"No," Draco stated immediately. 

"You are putting yourself at risk for Potter's stupidity." 

"What? Just because he hasn't taken to Occlumency, doesn't mean he is stupid," Draco snapped, "he is making amazing progress given the situation." 

"The situation being that his and the Dark Lord's every mind, every essence, are connected. If the Dark Lord sees you in Potter's mind, he will know of your betrayal," Severus lectured him. 

Draco's hands tightened until his knuckles were white. "If you are trying to explain the risks of my situation, don't bother, I'm very aware of the dangers." 

"Are you? Because you are acting without consideration to your wellbeing or your family's." 

"Yes, because they are so concerned about mine," Draco argued. 

Severus tilted his head in reaction to Draco's slip, "What is that supposed to mean?" he investigated. 

Draco took a shaking breath, trying to calm himself so that he doesn't continue to give more information than he means to. "If you have suggestions about how I teach Potter Occlumency, I'm all ears. Just remember, they are just suggestions. Nothing more," he stated. 

"I'm just trying to help you, Draco. You are in over your head, and you're too naïve to see that," Severus reasoned. 

"As if you could teach him better than I can," Draco defended, crossing him arms over his chest. 

"Given that I am an accomplished Occlumens, yes, I do," Severus growled. 

"And, correct me if I am wrong, but didn't it take you two and a half years to master Occlumency? Even with a mentor?" Draco pointed out. 

"If you think that you could teach a dim-wit like Potter Occlumency with your lack of experience-" 

"Obviously I know that I can teach him Occlumency, I'm even willing to bet my life on it," Draco challenged.

Severus stood up slowly, resting his palms on the desk. "I'm just trying to help you, Draco. You are just a boy." 

Draco mirrored Severus's motion, laying his hands on the desk, not dropping his glare. "So is he," Draco whispered. 

Severus pushed himself off, now pacing behind the desk. "You are going to get yourself killed, and for what? A boy that doesn't even care about you enough to realize what danger you are in?" he yelled. 

"I'm doing this for my own reasons, don't try to understand," Draco argued, his voice steady. 

"You're a child," Severus pointed out in frustration, standing in front of Draco. 

"Yes," Draco rolled his eyes, "You've pointed that out, do you have anything useful to say, or are you going to continue to waste my time?" 

Cold hands gripped Draco's shoulders tightly. "I have lost more than you will ever understand, you do best not to bite a helping hand." 

"Exactly what have you lost, Severus?" Draco tilted his head, "What caused you to switch sides? If you ever did, that is." If Severus moved his hands from Draco shoulders to his throat, he wouldn't have been surprised. Draco tilted his head, hot blood ran through his veins at the challenge. "I have my reasons, and you have yours. Let's just keep it at that," he ordered. 

Severus's grip on him only tightened, but he didn't say anything. Draco's jaw tightened until it blistered pain into his temples. 

"Draco?" 

Severus released him, Draco turned to the voice, his breath caught in his throat as he met Potter's eyes. 

"Is everything okay?" Potter asked, walking into the classroom. "I, uh, I was waiting for you outside…" 

"This is none of your concern, Potter," Severus snapped. 

"Given that we are talking about him, I believe that this is his concern," Draco insisted, walking to stand by Potter's side. 

Potter, with his excellent timing, contributed, "All good things, right?" 

Draco rolled his eyes, Potter elbowed him gently with a grin. "We'll be leaving now," Draco dismissed, to which Severus raised his eyebrows. The pair turned around, but was only able to walk a couple of feet before Severus called out to them.

"You shouldn't be so obvious with your reasons, Malfoy," Severus called after them. Draco and Potter turned, Severus had his arms crossed, his eyes darting between the pair, seeing what was obvious whenever they could be themselves. "Even Parkinson is starting to notice." 

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, his face hot in shame. His fist tightened until he was sure his hands would bleed from his nails biting into his hands. His stomach boiled in anger at Severus's smug face, he was enjoying Draco's reaction. His vision blurred with tears he refused to shed. 

Potter reached a hand out to him, Draco couldn't meet his eyes as he shrugged Potter off, crossing his arms over his chest. Potter's hand remained there, as if ready to reach out to him again, before letting the hand drop. "Draco, don't listen to him, let's just go," Potter whispered. Draco wouldn't move as Potter gently pulled at his sleeve. 

"Go fuck yourself," the words came out before Draco could stop them. 

Severus nearly gasped in shock, his eyes widening. 

Draco just turned around and left with Potter hurrying after. 

He kept walking, not even slamming the door behind him so that Severus would have to shut the door himself. Draco kept walking, blood in his ears, his cheeks red in embarrassment. The boiling anger in his stomach turned into shame that seeped into his spine. 

The bricks echoed their footsteps, they sounded too loud in Draco's ears. His vision blurred with tears he had yet to shed, he shallowed down the lump in the back of his throat. 

How could Severus parade around the fact that…. Draco could even think about what his godfather had been implying, what it meant. Draco's chin quivered, he had to keep looking down in case someone were to walk by. 

A steady hand on his back guided him through the corridors. Leading him somewhere private. Potter stopped at the beginning of the moving stairs, pulling him until they were behind one of the only set of stairs in the castle that didn't move. The area was small, too small to stand, but Potter sat next to Draco as he pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. 

His face felt blotchy as he turned away from Potter to wipe his face of the tears that had managed to spill. 

Potter was probably disgusted with him, being kind to Draco out of pity. Potter would smile politely before leaving, then he would avoid Draco, before pulling away completely. 

Potter was going to leave him. 

His only friend was going to turn him away. 

Draco's stomach clenched painfully. He could taste the bile gathering at the back of his throat. He gathered his resolve, building a wall of stone around his heart. He would not let Potter see him cry over him. 

Potter wasn't looking at him when Draco finally gathered the courage to face him. As Draco continued to look at Potter, trying to remember the sweet calm before the storm, Potter only sighed. "Your friends are assholes," was his great note of wisdom. 

A snort escaped Draco's noise before he could stop. The look Potter gave him caused laughter to be ripped from Draco's chest. Potter's shoulders shook as he asked, "Did you just snort?" 

Through his laughter, Draco managed to correct, "Malfoys do not snort, _Potter._ " 

They continued to laugh, maybe because Draco never laughed like he was unless Potter was around, maybe because Draco could feel Death following his scent, maybe because they were both children facing war and that realization was becoming more apparent. They laughed until their sides hurt. They laughed until they cried while smiling. 

The sound of hurried footsteps coming down the steps above them caused Potter to place a sure hand over Draco's mouth, as they were both still laughing. 

They hushed their voices, but the bubbles in Draco's chest continued, he couldn't resist a chuckle. 

The footsteps hurried without fault, someone was late for something. 

Potter moved his hand from Draco's face, a smile still on his face. "Are we okay?" Potter whispered, his face still close to Draco's. 

Draco shallowed, his face hot, but not from shame. He nodded with a honest smile on his face. He opened his mouth before closing it quickly. He should stop while he was ahead. 

Potter nudged Draco's shoulder with his, "What's wrong?" he asked. 

With a forced smile Draco noted, "Merlin, Potter, you're only observant when it's an inconvenience." 

"Draco." 

"It's just," Draco bit his lip, Potter's face was still close to his, "what Pansy said, in front of everyone-" 

"Oh, that," Potter rolled his eyes, "why would I be upset over a joke?" 

"Joke. A joke," he blabbed, "joking. Yes. Huh… Pansy is such a bitch," he crawled out from under the stairs. His neck sweating. 

Potter called out to him, Draco crawled faster. Draco kept his face carefully calm as he stood. 

"Draco!" Draco stopped when Potter grabbed his shoulder. 

He had to shallow the lump in his throat, "Yeah?" he turned to Potter. 

"It was a joke right?" he asked. 

Draco remained silent, Potter's grip on him tightened. Draco looked down. "Of course she was joking, Potter. Relax." 

Potter didn't say anything right away, Draco's stomach plummeted. "I'll see you tonight, Potter. Be ready to work," Draco distracted in a shaky voice. Potter nodded, but didn't move his hand from Draco's shoulder. They stood there, just in front of the stairs, where anyone could see them. Draco stared at Potter, who seemed as if he was debating something. "Potter," he tried, "we should leave-" 

Potter leaned forward and kissed him. 

Draco stopped talking, his eyes widening, his heart thumping. 

"See you tonight," Potter mumbled, all but running up the stairs. 

Draco touched his cheek where Potter had kissed him, his chest light as a smile formed on his lips. 

 

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Daphne asked, interrupting his reading. 

Draco looked up from his textbook. Daphne pulled out the chair next to him. Draco had taken to studying at the small table in corner hidden by the stairs, the most privacy could be found here. 

"Why would you think that?" Draco mumbled, rubbing his eyes from the late hour. 

"You wouldn't stop looking over at Potter during dinner, I think you even smiled, but that could be a trick of the light." 

Draco looked around, the hour was late, but there could still be listening ears. Draco cast a silencing charm on them, to ensure their conversation stayed as confidential as they needed. 

"Daphne, about yesterday-" Draco started. 

"Don't, I told you not to share too much with me, and you didn't. I was just surprised, that’s all," Daphne excused. 

The tension in his shoulders loosened. Daphne opened her copy of the Daily Profit, content to read silently next to Draco. 

Draco turned back to his textbook, found in the restricted section, the large text explained different methods for learning Occlumency. Potter wasn't making enough progress, especially if Potter was having… thoughts about Draco. The fire Draco was playing with would burn him. He didn't like his current bets. 

"Occlumency, that's pretty dark stuff Draco," Daphne noted. 

"It's necessary," Draco stated, irritation lacing his voice. 

"Merlin, I was just trying to start a conversation." 

"If you have something useful to say, then say it, otherwise; I'm busy, so don’t waste my time," he snapped. 

Daphne steadied him with an icy glare, "Just because Pansy was a bitch to you today doesn't mean you get to take it out on me." 

"Fuck, so you heard about that," Draco put his head in his hands. 

"Weasley wouldn't stop taking about it," she grinned, "but don't worry about your reputation, everyone knows it was a joke." 

Draco sighed, "It's not that, it's-" he waved at his book "-never mind, better for you if you didn't know." 

Daphne didn't say anything to argue that fact. 

Draco did his version of an apology with, "How was the first day of being one of Potter's minions?" 

A grin formed over Daphne's face, this was now obviously the reason way she wanted to talk. She shrugged, "Oh, you know me, I simply amazed everyone there with my intellect. Charmed everyone with my fantastic personality. And shattered their preconceived ideas of me as a person." 

"So, just the usual?" Draco flattered. 

"Mostly," Daphne smiled, before her face darkened. "Potter's trying his best, he really is, but… I'm not sure if it's enough."

"They have to know the basic before they can fight," Draco defended. 

"I know that, but… I don't think it's enough to just defend yourself against the dark arts, you have to know how to use it too." 

"Daphne, I don't disagree with you but Potter would never teach a group of kids the dark arts, I don't even think he knows them," Draco conflicted. 

"But how are we supposed to defend ourselves if we don't know what we are defending ourselves from?" Daphne argued.

"It's not like you can just find someone who is trained in the dark arts and be like, 'Oh, hi! Can you attack me, please?' Where would you even find someone that was trained? The only people I can think of are actual Death Eaters, and I don't see any here," Draco lectured. 

Daphne just started at him. Waiting for her point to become apparent. 

It finally clicked for Draco, "Fuck. No." 

"Draco, you are the perfect solution," Daphne pointed out. 

"I'm not a Death Eater," Draco snapped. 

"No, but are you telling me that you haven't learned anything from living under his roof? From being surrounded by Death Eaters every day? Draco, you came back from the summer break as almost a Master Occlumens-" 

"That was different, that was desperation-" 

"And we are desperate now!" Daphne interrupted. 

Draco sighed, the weight she was putting on him was crushing. 

"War is coming," Daphne took his hands, "We have to be ready, you have to prepare us." 

"I have to go," Draco pulled away from her, Potter would be waiting. 

Daphne followed him as he crossed the almost empty common room towards the door. "Just think about it," she whispered, squeezing his elbow. 

 

"Draco, please, I'm already so tired."

"The Dark Lord won't let up just because you're tired, Potter. I know I don't have to explain that to you." 

Potter released his knees to stand up fully, sweating as if just finished with Quidditch practice. His eyes burning with determination that Draco admired before nodding. 

The room was empty tonight, no furniture, no fireplace, at Draco's request. Potter stood across the room from Draco, doubling over whenever Draco entered his mind. 

_Daphne, getting the spell on her first try, pride welling up inside of him._

_Ron's and Hermione's face whenever Daphne entered the room, confidence in her walk._

_Everyone's look of discuss whenever he announced that Daphne would be joining the DA._

_Ron's laughter in potions today._

_Draco's face whenever he kissed his cheek._

_I will not-_

_Cho kissing him, crying._

_Ron's face whenever he visited his father in St. Mungo's._

_I will not tell lies._

_Anger._

_Mr. Weasley, bleeding on the ground in an unknown room, blood in his own mouth as he bit him again and again._

_A corridor, danger settling in his spine._

_I will not tell lies._

_Shame._

_I will not tell lies._

_Dumbledore, his back to him, refusing to look at him in his desperation._

_I will not tell lies._

_I will not tell lies._

_I will not tell lies._

_I will not tel-_

Draco's knees gave out with the force Potter pushed him out of his mind. His breath in hungry gasps. Potter was in his hands and knees, shaking. 

When Draco managed to catch his breath, he spoke, "That was good, but-" 

"I don't want to do that again," Potter interrupted. 

"Potter, I know this is difficult, but-" 

"No, you don't. You have no idea," Potter shook his head. 

"We've been doing this for weeks now, we have to start making progress sometime." 

"And we haven't already?" Potter pleated. 

Draco excused, "Let's take a break." 

Potter laid on the floor from where he stood. Draco smiled as he sat next to him, his legs out in front of him as he rested himself on his palms. Draco made sure to keep his body language calm. Potter didn't need to carry Draco's anxiety as well as his own. 

There was so much information that Draco was lacking. How are Potter and the Dark Lord connected? How strong was the connection? Potter only saw visions in his dreams, but could the Dark Lord see into Potter's thoughts? 

"Hey," Potter's hand touched his, "what's wrong? You dazed out for a second."

"It's nothing, what were you saying?" Draco looked down at Potter. 

"Draco, you can talk to me." 

"I know, I'm just tired, that's all," Draco excused. 

Potter sighed, "Daphne did great today, I wasn't expecting humility from a Slytherin." 

Draco mocked gasped, "I will have you know, Potter, that I am very humble. In fact, I would say that I am the most humble person I know." 

"You're right, how dare I doubt you." 

"I'm disappointed in you, you should know of my brilliance by now," Draco reminded, laying back on the floor. 

"I think you're more than just brilliant," Potter prompt his head on his hand, looking down at Draco. 

Draco's heart flutters every time Potter is this close to him. 

"What are you doing for Valentine's day?" Draco blurted. 

"Why, are you asking me to be your Valentine?" Potter blushed. 

"I, um, already have one," Draco lied. 

"Oh," Potter sat up, crossing his legs, playing with the hem of his shirt. "Is that what you were talking about with Daphne yesterday?" 

Draco sat up, his arm touching Potter's, who didn't move away. "Yeah, actually," he lied, "she, um, asked me, and I said yes." 

"So I guess you two are more than friends." 

Draco couldn't keep the venom out of his voice, "I suppose to the same extent as you and Cho." 

"I guess it doesn't matter then, since we are just friends," Potter noted, his jaw clenched. 

Draco sighed, "Potter, you're my best friend." He didn't ask way Potter kissed him. He didn't ask why Potter would act so jealous whenever Draco and Daphne were together. He didn't ask because part of him knew the answer, but he also knew the dangers. Potter only stared at him. "We should work on your technique," Draco stood. "Different methods work for different people, which is why Occlumency isn't taught as a class and Occlumens are so far in between," he lectured, taking his stance. "I want to try a different method for you, when you pushed me from your mind, what did you focus on?" he asked. 

Potter stood, "I don't really know, I guess I focused on… anger?" 

"You're emotions are so close to the surface," Draco observed, "instead of clearing your mind of them, like I've been telling you to, try to use them as a tool." 

"Easier said than done," Potter grinned. 

Draco pointed his wand, "We have to try." 

Potter nodded, Draco cast the spell. 

_I will not tell lies._

_I will not tell lies._

_I will not tell lies._

_I will not tell li-_

Draco left Potter's mind quickly, their goal for tonight had been accomplished. "That was perfect," Draco beamed, a grin plastered on his face. "The most progress you've made yet." 

"Thank, Merlin, can we be done now?" Potter asked, a yuan escaping his lips. 

Draco nodded, "We should meet again soon, we need to strengthen your technique into something usable." 

"Tomorrow?" Potter gathered his cloak. 

"Sounds good," Draco smiled, clasping his cloak around him to protect him from the chilly night. He waited for Potter at the door so they could leave together. "You should ask Cho out for Valentine's," Draco prompted, "I'm sure she'd be thrilled." 

Potter looked up at him before nodding, "I've never asked out a girl before." 

Draco shrugged, "It's not that hard." 

"Have you ever asked out a girl before?" Potter investigated. 

"You should probably ask Daphne for advice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you enjoyed it! Comments are always welcomed!


	13. Chapter 13

"Remind me again why I'm doing this." 

"A free meal with pleasant company," Draco reminded. 

Daphne rolled her eyes as they walked along the path to Hogsmead. "I'm not some beggar, Draco, your family wouldn't let you marry a peasant after all." 

He hummed in agreement, not answering her original question. He scanned the students walking, looking for no one in particular. 

Potter. He was looking for Potter. 

"Why did you invite me, Draco?" Daphne pestered through his 'not' looking for Potter. 

"It's Valentine's Day," he stated instead of supplying Daphne with an answer. And Potter will be there. Plus, Draco had been meaning to find out what happened to Montague since he had returned last week from St. Mungo's. Daphne's sighed. She looked the part of a respectable betrothal, as she always did. In her usual pale blue, she stood out against the dark greens of the landscape around them, but somehow seemed to belong. "You're now worried about appearances," she was guessing, but Daphne was observant. 

Draco smiled, he was getting better seeming genuine. "We're are just getting to know each other, perfectly respectable and expected for people who just got their marriage arranged."

"Whatever, you're paying for lunch." 

"You can get dessert," he teased. 

They traveled down the well walked path, following their fellow students. Draco hadn't slowed his pace as he normally would from prying ears. Instead, he ensured their conversation could be overheard on the path. Daphne took the hint, she always did, as they talked about their classes and friends. Perfectly innocent, and predictable, topics of conversation. 

They arrived at Hogsmead. The weather was almost warm, so students lined the outside of shops eating sweets. Hogsmead was a quaint town, but the thought of this place always made Draco feel lighter from the memories. The couples in the street caused the perfect backdrop to his and Daphne's 'date'. Appearances had to be kept, after all. 

His stomach sunk into his feet when he caught Potter's eye. He stopped walking. Potter stared at him. Draco's lungs filled with cold air as he took a deep inhale. Potter turned back to his date. 

"Where do you want to go first?" Draco blurted, turning to Daphne to ask. 

She smiled, "Why, aren't we being the gentleman?" 

"Just pick a damn shop," he brushed off. 

He shouldn't have let her pick the shop. 

Daphne dragged him to Dominic Maestro's Music Shop, a dingy loud space at the end of the block. Daphne investigated what Draco found out to be gramophones, which were placed on shelves lining the back wall. He investigated the shiny instruments lining the aisles while Daphne spoke to the store owner. 

Draco's stomach was growling by the time Daphne was finished examining useless items. "Hunger," he stated, his head rolling to face in her direction. "Please, mercy, food." 

She walked briskly by him, her eye catching on something. Draco took her hand as she made a sharp turn. He dragged her out of the dusty store. "Pick a place to eat," he ordered. 

"How gentlema-"

"Mercy Merlin." 

Daphne only smiled at his distressed before turning to lead the way back onto the main street of town. The only sound between them was their footsteps on the cobbled path. 

Daphne took his arm, clasping her hand delicately around his inner elbow, the pair were the perfect sight of a respectable couple. Draco's stomach turned at the thought. 

"Have you thought about what I said?" she whispered. 

He bit his inner cheek as his jaw clenched. "Daphne, there are too many risks." 

"What we are doing now is dangerous, don't play coy," she argued. Her voice was low but her expression sweet to the outside eye. 

"And how do you suppose we do this?" Draco smiled back. The crowd of students milled around them, laughing and talking. Couples smiling at each other. Blushes on cheeks. Valentine's in hand. Draco and Daphne truly blended in, no one would be able to pick them out of this crowd. No one could tell that they had war in their hearts and they were ready to burn the world down. 

Daphne didn't answer him, only gave him a smile that told him she had him right where she wanted. She nodded towards a shop, letting Draco lead her, as were her manners for a date. 

She allowed herself to be courted across the crowed street to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Draco could almost smell the sickly sweet perfume of Umbridge's office. His eyes popped with the bright tacky pink that was celebrating Valentine's. Floating baby cherubs shot tiny arrows that turned into gold dust at couples. Draco itched to hex them. "We have a reservation," Daphne reminded the hoists sweetly. 

The hoist led them to a small, two person table next to the window. "Do you like the window seat, darling? I requested it especially for you." Daphne thickly acted on his arm. 

Draco almost stopped walking as he noticed who was sitting next to them. 

Potter stared at him, his eyes wide, his back to the window. Draco shallowed, his ears heating. He attempted to pull himself out of Daphne's arm, but she only gripped him tighter with both hands. 

"This will be your table," the hoist prompted. 

"Actually-" Draco bit his tongue as Daphne twisted his thumb backwards sharply.

"This is wonderful, thank you," Daphne spoke over his yelp. 

The host hurried away. Draco could feel eyes on him from Potter's direction. He swallowed. The shop was over crowded, as many tables as possible squeezed into the space. People had to turn sideways to shuffle through what little space was available. 

"I would like to sit with my back to the window, if you don't mind," Daphne mentioned. 

"Yeah, sure," he mumbled, looking anywhere but Potter, whose table had gone silent. 

Daphne blinked at him a couple of times. Draco raise his eyebrows. "My chair, darling," she prompted with a chilling smile. He looked at the space between his table at Potter's. 

"You've got to be shitting-" Daphne stepped on his foot. 

His toes blistering in pain, he shuffled with his back to Potter's table. Potter was silent behind him, but Draco could tell his date wasn't going spectacularly. 

He pulled at Daphne's fucking chair, waiting for her to sit. 

Cho had her arms crossed, and was leveling Draco down with a hard stare. He looked away, but he could still feel the heat from her glare. She hated him, that fact was obvious. If she hexed him right now, he wouldn't be surprised.

Daphne started to shuffle in between the damn tables. "Cho! I didn't see you there-" she broke into conversation with Potter's date as if they were old friends. 

"Merlin's fucking pants," Draco mumbled. Potter snorted next to him. 

Draco hid his smile as his stomach fluttered. This was a bad idea, but he risked a quiet conversation in the loud shop. "You haven't even gotten your tea yet and Cho looks like she's about to run, step up your game, mate," he teased. 

Potter released a breath that told Draco he had heard him, before leaning slightly to him and whispering out of the corner of his mouth, "We haven't even ordered yet, this is a fucking disaster." 

Laughter that could be descried as an cough exploded from Draco's lips. He fake coughed into his fist to sell it. Daphne raised her eyebrows at him, her eyes wide as she glanced between the two of them. He shrugged easily, nodded at the chair. Daphne made her way to the chair, sitting with grace before digging her heels into the floor and pushing back, shoving Draco against the window with a thud. "Sorry darling, but I'm afraid I'm not that thin," she tsked. 

The smile he gave her was so fake, as was the apology he gave her. He moved to slide in between the tables, facing Daphne. 

She looked up at him, "No need to be so forward," she stated clearly, glancing down just below his waist. 

Draco wanted to die. He heard Potter choking back a laugh. Draco could just leave, just walk out. 

He didn't. Instead, he turned his back to Daphne. Forcing himself to face Potter, who wasn't looking at him, but wasn't talking either. Draco should look literally anywhere but Potter, but he couldn't. Draco followed Potter's glance, his stomach twisting in a way that Draco didn't want to dissect. 

Potter looked up at him, their eyes meeting. Draco's stomach jumped into his throat, his cheeks heating up down to his chest. A small smile sneaked onto Potter's lips and Draco almost tripped over his own feet. He looked up at the cherubs that he was sure was laughing at his expense. 

Cho pointedly skootched the chair away from Draco, leaning away as he walked. Not that Draco could blame her. 

"Asshole." He heard muttered at the next table as he sat down. 

Draco paused, unsure if he heard exactly what Cho had said. One look at Daphne's widen eyes and plastered smile confirmed his suspicions. He glanced at Potter, who was looking at Cho with his mouth agape and his eyes widened. 

Daphne stared at him. Silently telling him to let it go. He simply smiled, "How's your family?" he asked Daphne. 

They went over the almost rehearsed safe topics of conversation. Draco was only paying half attention has he twistedly enjoyed the cluster fuck that was Potter's date, with Daphne obviously eavesdropping as well. He winced at Cho attempt to make Potter jealous, which Daphne pointedly looked at Draco for. 

Draco blushed as he looked down at the menu, pretending to read as he witnessed Potter reaching over to touch Cho's hand, wincing whenever Cho pulled away. 

His attention was taken away when Madam Puddifoot took their orders. When he turned his attention back, Cho was crying. Potter was just looking down at his hands as Cho cried, admitting to her feelings of guilt over dating Potter so soon after Cedric's death. 

Draco's own hands were clammy as he swallowed his own guilt. Daphne was silent across from him, also looking down. "You must want to talk about it, no one is talking about it!" Cho was sobbing now, her voice raw. 

Potter's silence was defining. Cho was still crying silently. Potter seemed to slump with the emotional weight of Cho's grief. "I can't," Draco could barely hear him. "I'm sorry Cho, but I can't." 

Cho stood, still crying, before leaving. 

Draco observed as Potter watch Cho leave. Potter blinked, his eyes met Draco's. Draco clenched his fist so he wouldn't reach out to comfort his friend. 

Potter paid and left. 

A shaky breath left Draco's lips as their order arrived. Draco smiled dryly as Daphne only looked down. "Go to him," Daphne said when Madam Puddifoot left. 

Draco only shook his head. Daphne bit her lip. 

The tea was too sweet to Draco's liking, but he drank the light liquid anyway. Daphne nibbled on a biscuit. "He's really stupid, bringing up Granger and all." 

"Potter's an idiot," Draco agreed, stirring his tea. 

"You have your work cut out for you," Daphne noted. 

The spoon clunked in the teacup as Draco froze. "He shouldn't have to do this alone," he dazed. 

"And he won't have to," Daphne reached across the table to take Draco's hand in hers. "He as us, all of us." She held Draco's gaze in hers as she held his hand. Her voice lowered, "They, we, would fight for him, we just need to know how." 

"Daphne-" 

"We can't protect him if we don't know how," she spoke the same words he had spoken to her. 

"Don't try to manipulate me." 

"I'm just trying to do the right thing," she acknowledged.

He pulled his hand away from her, rubbing his face. His eyes glancing at where Potter had been sitting. 

Potter, slumped in the weight of the war that hadn't started yet. Unsure of how to comfort a crying girl through his own grief. He had so much resting on his thin shoulders, Draco could release some of the pressure. He owned him that. 

He could barely handle what he was doing now. The nightmares, the constant paranoia, his emotions stretched so thin he could snap at any time. Then, there was the risk. Draco would have to widen his inner circle, but to what? How much was too much? 

Daphne. Potter. Dumbledore. Severus. 

Four. Four people knew of his betrayal. His change of loyalties. None of them knew the entire story. None of them knew who else knew. Each only knew what they needed to know, whenever it was absolutely necessary. Already that was too many knives at Draco's throat. 

Potter was facing this war with enemies at all sides. 

"How?" he croaked. 

Daphne's eyes widen, she hadn't expected him to consider. 

"Just show me, or even Potter," she whispered. "At least we'll know what we're facing." 

He stood, he was done with this place. Daphne followed suit, pausing as he paid. Draco didn't bother with his manners, or his appearance as he let Daphne follow him out of the pink shop. 

The air was warm outside, he let his shoulders drop. Daphne walked up to him. She had to look up at him now, he had grown. Her blond hair dancing lightly in the warm breeze. There was a longing in Draco, in his heart. A longing for a brighter future than the one he knew was coming. Darkness was circling them, one bright warm day in a town full of laughter wasn't going to fix that. 

"I'll consider it," was all he could offer. 

Daphne nodded, perhaps she could feel the blood pulsing through veins would soon be dripping onto the ground. Making the town red with something other than Valentine's Day decorations. Perhaps she could tell how he was twisting himself, peeling his own skin off, before the war had even started.

"I need a favor," Draco stated. Daphne's hesitation was clear, he supposed at this point that was reasonable. "I need to know what happened to Montague, I have my suspicions, but I need to be sure," he answered to her hesitation. 

"I suppose it would be hard for you to get close," she noted. 

He shrugged, "I did say his mother's pussy was dry then proceeded to make him cry in front of everyone." 

"It must be nice to be a guy, you are able to be a complete bitch to people," Daphne pointed out. 

"The real kicker is that no one has ever called me a bitch," he teased. 

"Bitch," Daphne called him before walking away. Hopefully, to charm Montague into telling her what happened to him. Draco chuckled as he watch her leave, slipping into the crowed with ease.

He should go back to Hogwarts, enjoy the rest of the day in the library, but there was a pulling for him to stay. Wrap himself in other's laughter that he couldn't partake in. Observe couples expressing their feeling for each other, feelings that could get him killed. Enjoy the innocence of his classmates, before they grow up just as quickly as he has. Draco walk around, taking in all of this and more. Not dedicated to any direction in particular, until his eye was caught on an item in the widow of a candy store. 

He paid for his items, requesting for giftwrapped, much to the cashier's annoyance. 

"You would never guess what I just saw," a familiar voice spoke next to him. 

Pansy, always one to gossip, taking to Crabb and Goyal. The poor bastards. She had her back to Draco, Crabb and Goyal both looking over her shoulders at him, silently begging for the sweet release of death. Draco shook his head, they were on their own. 

"Granger and Rita Skeeter as drinking mates, can you believe it?" she exclaimed. 

Crabb and Goyal just started at her, missing the point of excitement completely. 

"Well… I mean, yeah?" Goyal offered awkwardly. 

"What do you mean 'yeah'?" Pansy snapped. 

Goyal just stood there with his mouth open. Crabb attempted to contribute with, "Didn't they meet last year?" 

"That's not the point! They hate each other, why would they be drinking together if they hated each other?" Pansy drew out to them. Draco ducked behind an aisle, making sure to stay in earshot. 

"Why do you think they hate each other?" Goyal pointed out. 

"Don't any of you read the paper? Rita Skeeter practically destroyed Granger's reputation last year, that's why she can't get a boyfriend." 

"Isn't she dating Ron?" Crabb asked, "They seem to have something between them." 

"I don't think they're ready to admit they're feelings for each other," Goyal commented. 

Draco took that as his cue to slip out of the door. He heard Pansy's dissection of what exactly Crabb and Goyal thought was going on between Potter's shadows as he left. 

So many questions running through his head, he didn't know where to start. Luckily, he was meeting with the source tonight. 

 

"The date was a disaster, thanks a lot. Asshole," Potter greeted him whenever Draco walked into the Room of Requirement. 

"How was your day Malfoy? How did your date go Malfoy?" Draco mocked Potter's frustration.

"You're such an insufferable git, Draco," Potter pointed out, splaying over the couch in front of the fireplace. The room was warm enough that lighting a fire would be unnecessary, so a lamp on a side table near Potter's head was on. 

"I'm the insufferable git who realized that your date was total shit-" he kept talking over Potter's loud protest- "that I got you a present to cheer you up." Draco pulled out the box wrapped in bright paper, tossing the box to Potter over the couch. Who just stared at the present that landed onto his chest. Draco lifted Potter's ankles before laying Potter's feet back onto his lap once Draco had taken his seat on the couch. The room had stop supplying chairs for them a while ago. Potter's feet only had knitted socks on them, as he had decided to leave his slippers off while laying down waiting for Draco. "Remind me to buy you socks for your birthday," Draco noted the holes in Potter's socks. 

"So you can remember my favorite candy but not that my socks have holes?" Potter teased after he opened the small gift, popping one of the chocolates into his mouth. 

"It's the importance of information," Draco solemnly stated with mock seriousness. 

Potter gave him a warm smile before pulling out the exact same box from his pocket, tossing the present to Draco. "You're kidding me," Draco caught the small box. Potter shook his head as he started to giggle. Laughter spreading to Draco as well whenever he opened the present to reveal the same box of chocolates he had gotten for Potter. 

"I could tell your date was almost as shitty as mine," Potter explained. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, "Please Potter, my date was most definitely worse than yours." 

"Cho cried Draco, in the middle of a tea shop," Potter stated. 

"Daphne spent the date literally twisting my arm, I have bruises," Draco challenged. 

"My date literally was crying over her ex, who I saw being killed." 

"She wanted to talk about… feelings," Draco shivered at the word 'feelings.'

Potter barked in laughter, "Well, you saw how well that went for me." 

"Potter, I mean this in the nicest why possible, but for their sakes, limit your feelings talk to Granger." 

A grown of frustration answered Draco, "What was up with that? Why does she care if I hang out with Hermione?" 

"She was jealous Potter. Merlin you're dense," Draco answered. 

"So she gets to be jealous about Hermione, out of all people, but she gets to bring up Roger Davies?" Potter vented. 

"Oh my- Potter- she was trying to make you jealous," Draco spelled out for him. 

Silence. He could hear the gears turning in Potter's head. Potter's chewing became loud as he focused in on the information Draco had just given him. Draco studied Potter while he was distracted, he was wearing the same pale blue pajamas he almost always wore. Draco was still wearing the same outfit from his date with Daphne, the dark blue brought out his eyes. 

He rested his head in his hand, his elbow on the back of the couch. Potter was cute with his brow knitted together in thought, but he only did that whenever there was a problem he really didn't understand. Rarely would you see Potter furrow his brow during class or lessons, or even during a test. No, only when there was a problem Potter had no clue how to go about. 

Draco bit his lip. The light from the lamp above Potter's head made his eyes bright even from this distance. He wondered how they would look up close. How Potter's eyes would look if Draco was right above him, their bodies touching as he crawled on top of Potter. Their lips touching as Draco leaned down for a kiss. 

Potter looking up at him from his seat, his eyes wide and his mouth just barely opened- 

"Draco," Potter had prompted himself up on his elbows, looking over at Draco with one eyebrow raised. 

He blinked, suddenly to aware of his own body. He licked the lip he had just been biting down on. Pulling his hand away from Potter's ankle where he had suddenly found it. "Sorry," he coughed, "you were saying?" 

"Oh, I hadn't said anything, you were just looking at me-" 

"There really isn't anywhere else to look at." 

"-with this look-" 

"It's been a long day." 

"That's all," Potter dropped the subject, but he tilted his head with a knowing look. Which made Draco's gaze settle on the strip of neck that was exposed. Potter's eyebrows shot up. 

Shit. Draco just rubbed his eyes, pitching the bridge of his nose. Sighing. He needed to change the subject. Damper the mood, but Potter was… flirting with him and Draco loved it. 

"Why can't you talk about Cedric?" he blurted. 

The breath Potter released told him he definitely succeeded in dampening the mood. 

"Why do you care?" Potter's voice was cold. 

Draco's jaw clenched, he had wanted to change the subject, not push Potter away completely. He would have to be very careful with his next few words. "It's just…" he started, his voice as calming as he could, "whenever you're, we're, here their doesn’t seem to be a problem."

"Why would there be a problem?" Potter pointedly asked. 

Draco sighed, "It just seems like Cho would be the best person to talk to about Cedric, you're both grieving. That's all." 

"She… needs something from me that I don't think I can give her," Potter's voice was quiet, he wouldn't look up. 

There was an itch in Draco's hands to reach out, to comfort Potter, but he couldn't bring himself to bridge that gap just yet. This conversation had already taken itself into dangerous waters, he was afraid to drown. He did the next best thing, he held out his box of chocolates, offering Potter one silently. A small smile warmed his chest as Potter took one of them, eating the candy in one bite. "How was your date with Daphne?"

Draco shrugged, "About as well as can be expected." 

"Why do you- oh, never mind," Potter stopped. 

"What?" 

"No, it's okay."

"Potter," Draco pestered. Who sighed in response.

"It's just… why are you two together?" Potter asked. 

"Ah…well," no great excuses came to mind, so, Draco lied. "I like her." 

Potter just stared at him. He shrugged in defense. "Draco," Potter stated. 

"Just let it go," he deflated. 

"If you don't like her, why are you with her? She doesn't like you either," Potter nagged. 

"And how do you know that?" he snapped, his neck tensing. 

The amount of eyerolling Potter managed to pull off was almost more impressive than annoying. "We talk, Draco. Remember? The DA?" 

"Well, I'm glad you two are such good friends, maybe Cho does have something to be jealous about," he lashed out. He needed to change the topic of conversation. Somehow, Potter always manages to drag into light what Draco's keeping in his closet. 

"Merlin, Draco," Potter pulled his feet out of Draco's lap, sitting up and scooting over to sit right into Draco space. Potter's knee touching Draco's leg as he kept both feet on the couch. "You just…" Potter pinched his lips together in thought. "You deserve to be with someone who likes you, and I can't tell why you don't let yourself have that." 

With his mouth dry, Draco slumped his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're really only observant at the most inconvenient times." 

Warmth covered Draco's side as Potter sat closer to him, his arm around his shoulder. "Draco," Potter was so close that his breath brushed against his neck. A hand found its way around Draco's bicep. 

He froze, his head still in his hands. Potter was so close that he could feel his breath on his neck. A shiver ran through his spine. The arm around him tensed, Potter knew how he was reacting to his closeness. Draco waited for him to pull away, for the two of them to make jokes about whatever they would need to do to deescalate what was happening between them. 

Potter didn't pull away. 

Draco didn't move. 

The arm around his shoulders loosened, Draco thought Potter was about to separate himself, when he felt a hand caressed lightly over his spine. He let his shoulders dropped, his head still in his hands. He swallowed whenever he felt Potter nose at his neck, his hands removed from his face then replaced by Potter's touch on his cheek. His face was hot. Fire had settled at Potter's hand on his back, his touch on his cheek. 

His eyes fluttered shut whenever he felt Potter's lips on his neck in a small kiss. He gasped as Potter's lips moved to his ear. His heart was pounding in his chest, he was sure Potter could feel his heartbeat against his neck as lips worked more surely against his neck. Hands found Potter's chest, his neck. Draco couldn't stop them from shaking. He could hear how fast Potter was breathing, his hand felt how fast his heart was pounding in his ribs. Potter wanted this just as much as he did. 

Potter's nose was against his cheek, his breath over Draco's jaw. Their noses touched, lips so close. 

Draco allowed himself to touch, to memorize what Potter's arm felt like, his chest, his neck. He cupped Potter's face with both of his hands, holding him. 

His eyes opened then, he needed to remember this moment. Keep this night sealed in his heart. Potter had his eyes closed, he was leaning into Draco, one hand on Draco's cheek, the other on his back. 

Draco leaned away whenever Potter tried to bring their lips together, still cupping his face. 

Potter's eyes opened, staring into Draco's. 

Draco couldn't let him go, his hands still on his face, his thumbs stroking Potter's face. Bile collected at the back of his throat. His eyes started to itch. His chest felt so heavy. Draco wouldn't cry, he wouldn't became another problem for Potter to fix, another burden for him to carry. 

"Draco," Potter whispered, his eyes searching Draco's. 

When Potter said his name so sweetly, he couldn't help but to smile. "Please forgive me," he begged, still smiling. 

"You want this," Potter uttered, leaning in so that their foreheads touched. 

A deep breath filled Draco's lungs, as if he was trying to breath in the light that seeped from Potter's very essence. "I can't," he choked, his voice raw from the tears he was holding back. 

Potter cupped his face in both of his hands. "Why? Why can't we have this?" 

A dry laugh escaped Draco's lips before he let Potter go. He instantly missed Potter's touch as he pulled away as well. "Potter, you know why." 

Potter looked down instantly, his chin quivering. "You’re nothing like your father," Potter argued. 

"I'm not worried about becoming my father," Draco lied. 

"I can- Dumbledore, we can help you," Potter offered, his voice breaking, his eyes glassing over. Draco pulled him into a hug, Potter buried his face into Draco's chest. Draco's hand found the back of Potter's head, he rested his chin on Potter. Potter's breathing deepened, he was trying not to cry, but his chest kept shaking with the acknowledgement of the danger Draco was in. 

"I'm so sorry," Draco gasped, trying not to let tears spill.

Draco held onto Potter until he stopped shaking, until his breath soothed. He pulled out of Draco's grasped, his face wet. "This sucks," Potter noted. 

Draco laughed, when he started, he couldn't stop. His rips hurt with the force of the laughter that was ripped from his chest. Potter snorted next to him, which caused him to practically fall of the couch laughing. 

The giggles started again whenever Draco looked at Potter, who had his arms around his stomach in pain from laughing so hard. 

Tears slipped down Draco's cheeks from laughing. When he moved to wipe them, Potter reached out, still giggling, and brushed them away. He paused, his eyes searching Draco's face, "What do we do now?" Potter asked, his fingertips still against Draco's face. 

"I don't know," Draco sighed. 

"I think I'll let you figure that out," Potter laid his head down on Draco's lap, stretching his body over the rest of the couch. 

Draco let his hand slip into Potter's hair. "Getting familiar now, are we?" he teased. 

"Fuck off," Potter smiled up at him. 

The two slipped into a comfortable silence, hidden away from the darkness that they knew was closing in.

"We should go," Draco whispered whenever Potter had closed his eyes, his body relaxed. 

"Just a little longer."


	14. Chapter 14

"The audacity!" Umbridge gasped, her pink nails touching her pink lips as she covered her mouth in shock. 

Draco had decided to count each nail as a pink item for his little game he played in this pink hellhole. "Yes ma'am, this is truly horrible," he swore. 

Pink nails tightened over the brightly covered magazine, knuckles turning white as Umbridge continued to read, her face turning the same color as her pink hat. Draco would count that as a pink item. He had made his way into the triple digits now. 

Draco decided whenever Umbridge had turned a frightening shade of purple to intervene. "Professor, please." He gently grabbed the magazine. His gentle grip tightened whenever Umbridge started to hyperventilate. "Professor!" he yelled. 

Umbridge dropped the magazine, standing with such ferocity that Draco stumbled back into his chair. Umbridge started screaming at such a velocity that Draco was dizzy. She slammed the door behind her, screaming for Filch. 

He took that has his cue to leave, making sure to grab the Quibbler on his way out. He smiled as he glanced over the article once again. Pride started rising into his chest. Potter knew how to be a little shit. 

So that was what Granger and Skeeter's meeting was about. Draco bit back his grin. Potter wouldn't tell Draco despite his nagging. Simply shrugging and noting that he didn't want to ruin the surprise. 

He hid the Quibbler in his bookbag, not bothering to cast a charm to disguise the text. He would simply say that he had confiscated the banned magazine from another student if he was questioned. 

The weather outside was warm as February bled into March. The bleakness of white winter was breaking away for the bright colors of spring. Draco made his way down to Professor Hagrid's hut, where class met. Theo and Blaise both nodded at him in greeting as they all met at the top of the hill that gently sloped downward towards the singular building where their Professor lived. 

Both Theo and Blaise were tensely silent as the three boys walked down the path. "So…" Blaise broke the silence. Draco ignored the way Theo flinched. "I'm going to assume we've all seen it?" Blaise continued. 

"Asshole doesn’t have any consideration for the rest of us," Theo bit.

"What else was he supposed to do?" Blaise snapped quietly, trying to ensure they weren't overheard. 

"Things were just starting to get better, but Potter had to go and ruin it," Theo argued.

"You and I both know that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better," Blaise steadied Theo with a glare. 

"Then you and I both know what this means for us, right? Or do I have to spell that out for you too?" Theo was almost yelling now. 

"That's enough," Draco interrupted, "none of us can risk being overheard." 

That silenced both boys, but the tension between them could be sliced with a knife. They continued walking down the stony path. Theo was right, with Potter dancing and yelling 'Voldemort' the students of the Death Eaters were only reminded of what exactly their situation was. The invisible pressure of their parents was pressing them into the floor. 

The ground steadied beneath their feet, the grass reaching their ankles. Students milled around, waiting for class to begin. Draco watched as his peers laughed, for once not being the only one detached from the rest of his peers joyousness, as Theo and Blaise were silent next to him. Students gathered around the hut, a short distance away from the entrance, some sitting down, enjoying the weather.

A familiar laugh drew Draco's attention. Potter, laughing at something Weasley had said, Granger next to them with a sly smile on her lips. Potter had taken off his school robe, showing the muggle jeans he wore underneath. The top button of his button shirt was undone, his tie loose against the heat. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

Potter looked happy in this moment, together with his friends. Draco sighed, wishing he could surround Potter in this moment always. He seemed so carefree, the pressure of blood and war disappearing from his shoulders. There were times few and far in between that Draco could do that for Potter. Draco's hands were already dipped red with the upcoming war, he would just bring Potter down. 

A rough shoulder against his snapped his thoughts back, he stumbled backwards, but managed to stay upright. Finnigan glared at him from where he had purposely slammed Draco out of the way. 

Draco raised his eyebrows, resisting the want to rub his shoulder. He tried to remember if he had done anything in recent history to piss the Gryffindor off, but nothing came into mind. Finnigan had his fist clenched at his sides, his chest puffed out in what Draco guessed was meant to be intimidating. Finnigan wanted to fight. Draco adjusted his strategy compared to how he would usually handle a similar situation, Finnigan wasn't worth his time. He relaxed his stature, rubbing his shoulder, keeping his face carefully neutral. "My mistake, mate," he lied. An unhelpful snort came from Draco right, from where Blaise was standing. Theo shifted on his left. 

"I'm not your mate, prick," Finnigan dismissed Draco's olive branch. The class fell into a hush. Draco was known for going for the throat, an act of mercy was not his usual response. Draco frowned as casually as he could, keeping the sharpness out of his voice, "You've made that clear." Finnigan fumed, but Draco couldn't tell what had set him off in the first place, he had no clue about how to handle this. 

"Come on, Seamus. He's not worth it," Potter spoke up, his laughter gone. Draco didn't move, not wanting to make things worse, as was his usual luck.

Finnigan glared at Draco, but Draco was careful not to give him anymore reason than he had to be angry. Whatever that reason was. Where was Professor Hagrid? Of course this would be the day that he would be late. Draco, wanting to deescalate the situation, turned away from Finnigan. He glanced at both Theo and Blaise, silently telling them to stay quiet. 

"Death Eater scum." 

Draco's posture changed has he heard those words hurled at him. The class turned stony silent as what Finnigan had said traveled. Hot anger curled at the base of Draco's spine. He punched his lips together, putting together a plan. 

Theo was wide eyed, his mouth opened in shock. Blaise had his hand on Theo's arm, perhaps comforting him or holding him back. Draco sighed, Potter's interview was going to be more of an issue than he had originally thought. The abuse would only get worse if he continued to allow Finnigan to challenge him. He would have to fight, but if he did this right, he would only have to fight once. 

"Hold this," he shoved his bookbag into Theo's arms, who took the bag with wide eyes. 

"Malfoy-" Blaise started, his eyes shifting. 

Draco didn't give him a chance to speak, turning back to Finnigan, but also glancing around quickly for any Professors. They were alone. "Excuse me?" Draco called out to Finnigan, who had begun to walk away. "What did you just call me?" 

Finnigan was quick to face Draco, Potter's eyes widen in concern. "Seamus, don't answer-" Potter tried to pull Finnigan back. 

"I called you Death Eater Scum," Finnigan drew out for Draco. 

The smile that found its way onto Draco's lips was a cold one. "I thought so." 

His walk was sure as he stepped into Finnigan's space, who didn't step back, but drew his wand out. The crowd gasped around them. Draco kept walking until Finnigan's wand was barely touching his neck. Finnigan steadied Draco with a glare, Draco raised his eyebrows slightly, mocking him. Draco's hands remained at his sides, relaxed despite the circumstances. Draco's heart pounded in his chest, but his movements were sure, he knew what to do. 

"You're muggle born, correct?" Draco tilted his head, a chillingly friendly expression on his face. 

Finnigan didn't know what to do with Draco's non-threating demeanor, he had been prepared for a fight, not a conversation. His feet shifted, but he kept Draco at wand point. A shiver went through the crowd as Draco visibly slipped from hot anger to cold calculation. "Yeah, what of it?" Finnigan snapped, his hand was shaking now. 

"I just thought that perhaps, if you were raised as a muggle-" Draco stepped into the wand at his throat, using one pointed figure to gently push the wand over his shoulder instead of at his throat "-that we should handle this the way you filthy muggles do." 

He was only able to enjoy Finnigan's confused expression for a second before Draco punched him in the throat. Wrapping his hand around Finnigan's wand, he yanked the weapon out of Finnigan's grasp, tossing the wand behind him. Finnigan had both hands at his neck, trying to catch his breath. Draco brought his fist back, and drove it forward into Finnigan's diaphragm, the air leaving Finnigan's lungs. 

He should stop, he had made his point, but something drove Draco forward, something he couldn't stop. 

Draco enjoyed the pain that blistered from his fist as he punched Finnigan in the nose, who started bleeding with a yelp. 

Blood. 

A mother's screams for mercy for her children. 

Finnigan hit the ground after another punch to his jaw.

Children's screams, not truly able to understand what was happening as the Dark Lord raised his wand.

Draco should stop, but he didn't want to. 

With a knee on Finnigan's chest, Draco continued to hit him with tightly closed fist. 

Claws at Draco's back, a snake tightening around his lungs. 

The sound of his fist on Finnigan's face dulled, only the sound of Draco heart remained in his ears. Draco's hands were numb in pain, Finnigan looked up at him, bleeding from his crooked nose and split lip. 

In an instant, the fight was over. He was done. He had won. 

He lifted Finnigan by the front of his shirt, kneeling in front of him. Finnigan's eye was already almost swollen shut. Everyone was watching them. Everyone knew where the battle lines were being drawn. 

"If I were to have used my wand, I would have finished you in three seconds," there wasn't a waiver in Draco's voice, he could have been talking about the weather with one of his Professors. "Remember that the next time you want to get cheeky." 

Finnigan wouldn't look at him, but his chin started to quiver. Something in Draco twisted in some sort of cruel joy at the control he had. He couldn't help but to smile. "Nod if you understand, dear," he prompted in a gentle voice. Finnigan nodded, his eyes finally meeting Draco's. Fear. 

He pulled out his wand, ignoring how Finnigan flinched, and used the same spell Blaise had used on him whenever Weasley had broken his nose. The nose set with an audible pop, several students flinched in sympathy of Finnigan's scream. 

Draco turned his back, he had been shown to be the victor. Now, no one would raise their wands to him. He was out for blood, and now everyone knew. 

Potter was staring at him, the faces behind him bled into a blur, but Potter's look of shock and horror would remain seared into his memory. Draco bit the inside of his cheek, his face hot in shame. He swallowed, making himself face Potter, not allowing himself to look down. "Someone take him to Madam Pomphrey," his voice traveled easily through the crowd. Potter opened his mouth, but Draco just shook his head slightly before walking past him. 

Theo and Blaise just stared at him. His bookbag was held tightly against Theo's chest. Draco reached out for his bag, shocked at the amount of blood on his hand. He looked around, unless he wanted to wash his hands in the lake he would have to think of another way to clean himself. 

"Here," Blaise took out his wand. "Aguamenti," he enchanted, providing Draco with a steady stream of clear, cool water. The instant Draco dipped his hands into the stream, the water darkened slightly with blood. The water was cool enough that the bruises on his knuckles sighed in relief. When Draco was finished washing, he cupped the water, bring the cool liquid to his mouth to clench his thirst. 

He nodded his thanks to Blaise, who just shook his head with a sigh. Theo handed him back his bookbag, his eyes on the ground. 

Draco looked around, several people cast their eyes downwards or turned their heads completely. Everyone was giving the Slytherins a wide girth. 

"That's better," Draco noted, grinning at the two Slytherins. 

Blaise snorted, rubbing his forehead. Theo still wouldn't look at him. 

Draco watched as Potter and Weasley helped Finnigan to his feet, letting him sit in a chair that Granger had conjured. 

"There had to have been a better way to do this," Theo spoked beside him. 

He shrugged, "None so effective." 

 

There was still blood on his sleeve, Draco noted as he examined his hands. Bruises lined his knuckles and the joints of his fingers from some badly aimed punches. The bruises were blue, almost purple in some places against his pale skin. With the amount of blood he had on his hands, Draco had expected for some of his skin to have split against Finnigan's jaw. He flexed his hand, enjoying the soreness, like from a long game of Quidditch. 

"Are you finished?" Severus growled. 

Draco remained silent, continuing to flex his hand. He shifted in the hard wooden chair that he had been sitting in for an indescribable time. Severus glared at him from the nice arm chair he had placed himself into. They were in the familiar space of Severus's personal study. Draco usually visited for leisurely tea time, not for blundering another student. Sunlight shown through the two large windows that face the lake, and Hagrid's hut. 

Severus stood to pace whenever Draco didn't answer him. He rested his hands on the back of the large armchair he had been sitting in, his lips pinched together. "Now…" he jeered, "tell me exactly what happened." 

Draco licked his teeth, steading Severus with a glare. "I thought we were waiting for Professor Dumbledore, sir," he drew out 'sir' so that the word meant 'arse.' 

"Malfoy-" 

"Yes sir?" Draco continued to mock. 

"I don't know gives you the impression that you can talk to me that way-" 

"No impression, just a good reason," the venom laced his voice. 

"You are being an unreasonable brat," Severus snapped. 

"Because you are the perfect example of reasonable decision making," Draco sneered. 

"Potter is making you into a-" 

"Don’t you dare bring him into this," Draco corrected. Severus knew which buttons to press. 

"He is the problem!" Severus yelled. "Ever since you two have started this-" Severus made a vague hand motion in Draco's direction- "you have become unstable." 

"Unstable," Draco repeated. 

"You're not seeing reason," Severus stated, "Let me-" 

"Stop, just stop," Draco dismissed, rubbing his forehead. 

"Getting involved with the Potter was a mistake, let me help you redeem yourself." 

"Redeem myself? Why would you assume I need redeeming?" Draco's voice was dangerously low. He made clear that Severus needed to pick his next few words carefully. "And do you mean redeem myself for violence against another student or redeem myself for happening to have a relationship with Potter? Because both are not subjects that I actually need redemption from, so why don't you just save your breath?" 

The words were just behind Severus's lips, that much was clear. The door behind him opened, Severus kept silent, his head down. 

Dumbledore walked in, appearing regal as always in dark navy robes. A somber look was directed at Draco. Professor Dumbledore sat in the seat where Severus had just been sitting across from Draco. "Well, well, Mr. Malfoy, what are we going to do with you?" Dumbledore's slight tilt of his head, followed by his silence, twisted a knife in Draco's gut. He ignored the steady panic that was pooling at his spine, keeping his sight steadily meeting Headmaster's gaze. 

"In which regards sir?" Draco responded. 

"Merlin, Malfoy, not every conversation is at a war table," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. 

A sly smile found placement on Dumbledore's lips, "I've just come from speaking with Mr. Finnigan, the attack on him seemed almost entirely unprompted." 

"Seemed?" Draco raised his eyebrows. 

"I was hoping to discuss what happened with you before any punishment is decided," Dumbledore explained. 

Draco leaned forward in his uncomfortable chair, resting his elbows on his knees, "He shoved me, so I punched him." 

"You did a bit more than punch the boy, Malfoy," Severus noted from the corner in which he leaned against the wall. 

"Fine," Draco snapped, "I punched him multiple times. Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

"Mr. Finnigan told me a slightly different story," Dumbledore recalled. 

Draco sighed, "And what would that be?" 

Dumbledore held his gaze, "Mr. Malfoy, you must understand, I'm not just concerned about the violence, but also the level of the violence." 

Draco just remained silent. 

"Mr. Finnigan admitted to starting the fight, but you made sure to finish it, didn't you?" Dumbledore gently prompted. 

"It was necessary," he excused. 

"Necessary for what?" Dumbledore asked. He was leading Draco to the answer he wanted to hear. Draco rubbed his face, thinking of a way out of this. He knew the consequences before he attacked Finnigan, the pros had out weighted the cons. What he hadn't considered, stupidly, was how invested Dumbledore would be to the reasoning. Draco would have preferred for the Professor to look at the problem for the face-value, not looking into the core. 

"Mr. Malfoy, why didn't you use your wand?"

"What does that matter?" Draco heard Severus mumble from the corner. Dumbledore kept his gaze on Draco. 

"I think you know the reasoning, Professor," Draco challenged. 

"I have my suspicions, would you mind confirming them?" Dumbledore explained. 

Draco stared at Dumbledore. What did he get from knowing Draco's reasoning? What was he trying to gain? Or was there nothing for him to gain, but he wanted to confirm his assumptions about Draco? What would a man like Dumbledore assume about Draco Malfoy? 

"Your Professor asked you a question, Malfoy," Severus scolded. 

"Let him answer in his own time, Severus. I'm sure he has a lot on his mind," Dumbledore cooled. 

"I didn't use my wand," Draco started carefully, "because the result would have been less than satisfactory." 

"And what was the intended result?" Dumbledore prompted. 

"To fight so that I wouldn't have to fight again," Draco told him. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Severus asked, still in the corner. 

"It means that this was the only way of protecting myself," Draco explained. 

"Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you, that if you were in true need of protection, I would stop at no means to acquire that for you," Dumbledore declared. 

"My apologies Professor," Draco lied, "I should have come to you first. Please forgive me." Draco told them what they wanted to hear, he just wanted this to end. He would have rather dealt with Umbridge. 

"Why didn't you?" investigated Dumbledore. 

"I didn't think to, sir," Draco answered. Even if he had gone to Dumbledore, this was a problem only Draco could handle with his own fist. 

"For some reason, I doubt that," Dumbledore speculated. 

Draco leaned back into his chair, resting his hands on his knees, making sure not to cross his arms in defense. "It's the truth, Professor," he lied yet again, his voice unwavering with just enough regret to almost be believing. 

"Mr. Malfoy, the fact of the matter is that you fought another student. Now, however regrettable, we are a school for young people, and tempers are sure to run high, resulting in disagreements that may get physical," Dumbledore lectured. "The point that I am most concerned about is the pure level of violence you have shown to be capable of. Violence of this level can be explained only by extreme circumstance, but you managed to channel that darkness for a mild inconvience. If I am being generous." 

Draco should look down, try to seem meek, make the fight seem like a snap reaction of hot temper, not the careful decision that it was. He couldn't. He couldn't look down. He held Dumbledore's gaze, daring him to see Draco for what he was. 

Dumbledore continued, "This does not seem like a reaction to some name calling, would I be correct?" 

"I'll repeat myself. I won this fight so that I wouldn't have to fight again. Who cares if I won with my fist instead of my wand?" Draco distracted. 

"Your reaction could almost be considered a snap of temper, but you attacked Mr. Finnigan with surgical precision that suggests more thought," Dumbledore challenged. He leaned in his chair now, resting his hands on the armrest. 

"You're overanalyzing this, Albus," Severus called to them. 

"I think you're underestimating your Godson, Severus. He has just proven to us that that is a deadly mistake," Dumbledore complemented Draco. 

"Don't you put that pressure on him, Albus, I won't stand for it," Severus defended Draco. 

Silence echoed through the small private living quarters. Was Severus protecting him? Why would Severus feel the need to protect Draco form Dumbledore, a man Severus works for, would die for if needed? 

What was Draco stepping into? 

"Malfoy," Dumbledore turned his gaze to Draco, his eyes suddenly warm and twinkling, "I know that we are not particularly close, but I was wondering of your, how to put this, your romantic chases?" 

What the fuck? "Umm… Professor," Draco looked towards Severus, who was rubbing his temples in aggravation, "thank you for the concern-" 

"You're just at the age where romantic attractions are one of the few joys of being so young," Dumbledore shrugged. "I hope I'm not embarrassing you, but-" Dumbledore leaned in, lowering his voice to an almost whisper- "I would suspect that Severus would not be the most tactful at discussing these matters." 

"I can still hear you, I'm right here," Severus muttered, his head still in his hands. 

Draco thought back to Severus's cruel behavior at realizing his feelings for Potter. "Your suspicions would be correct." 

"I knew it. Anyone in particular? I've noticed you have been joint at the hip with the eldest Mrs. Greengrass," Dumbledore speculated. 

"Daphne? Are families know each other," Draco excused.

"No? Well perhaps Mrs. Parkinson? You did seem rather concern for her whenever she had her nasty accident." 

"She's an acquaintance, nothing more," Draco explained. 

"Well, it is so hard to tell these days," Dumbledore shrugged, "I do know that you have been spending a lot of time with Harry. I wonder…" 

Draco heart nearly stopped in his chest. "Potter?" he choked to Dumbledore's all too knowing look and Severus's loud sigh that echoed throughout the room. "Oh, no, we're, I mean he's incredible, but we're…" Draco swallowed, thinking of the almost kiss that could have been just last night. "We're just friends," he shuddered, his face turning so red that he was sure everyone in the room could tell that he was lying. Badly. Oh he was lying so badly. Draco closed his eyes for a second, gathering his patience. "Actually, I was hoping I could talk about him with you two." 

"Of course," Dumbledore thankfully dropped the subject of Draco's 'romantic chases.' 

"I…" this wasn't how Draco wanted to have this conversation, but when would he have the pair of them in the same room again? He had to take his chance. "Professor," he gathered Dumbledore's attention, "you've trusted me with Potter's mind, correct?" 

Dumbledore nodded, waiting for Draco to continue. 

"Would you mind if I ask why?" 

"Why?" Dumbledore repeated.

"Yes, what made you decide that I was qualified to teach Potter Occlumency?" Draco started weaving his trap. 

"Well, you put up quite the argument," Dumbledore clarified. 

That wasn't good enough. "You don't honestly expect me to believe you would risk Potter's sanity on a well-placed argument?" Draco challenged. 

Severus objected, "I'm not sure what that has to do with anything." 

"Why is Dumbledore willing to risk the very fabric of a student's mind on me?" Draco elaborated. "For all he knows, I have no clue what I'm teaching Potter, or perhaps I'm trying to lower his defenses to be in much needed good graces with the Dark Lord. Why take the risk?" 

"Malfoy, I trust you have Potter's best intentions at heart. I know the risk you are taking just by sitting here discussing this with us, much less being in the forefront of Potter's training," Dumbledore explained. 

Draco leaned in his seat, his trap having been set, "So you trust me?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes, Draco," Dumbledore smiled, "I trust you." 

"Then why are you keeping information from me?" Draco questioned. 

Dumbledore's smile didn't falter, but his eyes did darken. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Dumbledore's voice was cold. 

"What happened to trust?" Draco questioned, "Let's not play games, we all know that the Dark Lord's connection to Potter goes beyond the bounds of Legilimency." 

Dumbledore nodded, "You are correct." 

"And I am correct to assume that you know why?" 

Silence. No one moved. 

"Fantastic," Draco noted, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore, "and what's the reasoning for keeping this information from Potter?" 

"Why would you assume Potter doesn't know?" Dumbledore tilted his head. 

"Because I don't know," Draco snapped. At Dumbledore's raised eyebrows, he responded, "He would have told me, he doesn't keep things from me." 

"No, but I'm sure that’s a one-way street, correct?" Dumbledore observed. 

"You've ignored Potter in his time of grieving, are you sure you want to point fingers?" Draco lashed out. 

"Professor Snape will discuss your punishment for your actions earlier this year, I think I have gotten my explanations," Dumbledore stood, turning his back to Draco. 

Wait, this isn't what Draco wanted, this isn't what Potter needed. "Professor, wait," he called out. Dumbledore stopped, his back still to Draco. 

Draco swallowed, he had gotten stuck in his own trap, he would have to cut of his own foot to get out. "You don't want to tell me, fine, but," Draco tried not to flinch at the next admission, "but I'm not the best person to help Potter then." Dumbledore turned to Draco then, openly calculating him. He continued, "I can't help him if I don't know what I'm protecting him from, and it seems that you two don't think I'm trustworthy enough to be privy to that information." No one disagreed with him on that point. "I think the best next step would be for Severus to take up Occlumency lessons," he concluded. 

He glanced between the pair of them. Severus was scowling, openly displeased with the situation. Dumbledore seemed almost… impressed with Draco. "And what does Mr. Potter think of this arrangement?" Dumbledore investigated. 

"I haven't discussed this with him, but…" he met Dumbledore's gaze, "but if you think this will help Potter, then I can talk him into it. Better to have someone with all the pieces," Draco glanced at Severus, "or at least those that you let him have." Draco tilted his head at Dumbledore. 

 

"Well, if it isn't our resident badass," Theo greeted him at dinner. 

"More like our resident dumbass," Daphne corrected, not looking up from her copy of the Daily Profit. 

"Fuck off," Draco dismissed, sitting between the two. Pansy sat across from him, sitting in between Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Let the man have a break, he did just beat the shit out of Finnigan. He should be rewarded," Crabbe piped up. 

"Did Snape make you tea in thanks?" Goyle teased. 

"No, but I do have detention with him for a month," Draco corrected, taking a big bite of his dinner, having skipped lunch. 

"The Golden Boy, detention? Unheard of," Pansy teased. 

"Almost as if there's actual consequences for his actions, unheard of," Daphne mumbled next to him. 

"Careful, Daphne's on her warpath," Crabbe grumbled. 

"Why don't you go talk to someone more on your intellect level? Perhaps the first years?" Daphne reprimanded. She still hadn't bothered looking up from her reading, but her voice was deadly. 

"Why don't you stop being a cunt?" Crabbe snapped. 

"Talk to my sister again, and I'll sew your mouth shut," Astoria growled. Draco hadn't noticed her from her seat next to her sister, but she was glaring at Crabbe with a look Draco had seen on himself. 

"Put your sister on a leash," Pansy warned Daphne. 

"My sister is none of your concern," Daphne corrected her. 

Theo let out a low whistle at the silence that followed. "Well, doesn't this remind me of home," he commented. "Before my mom died, of course." 

"Tactful as always, Theo," Draco sighed. 

Theo shrugged, "I have my talents." 

"Talents for being a little shit," Draco complemented. 

"Aw, thanks. You too," Theo returned the agreement. 

"Gross, get a room," Pansy piped in. 

"Don't you wish?" Theo winked at her. 

"Disgusting," Crabbe mumbled almost under his breath. 

"Don't worry, there's some for you too, Crabbe," Theo teased. His smile plastic and tense. 

"How about you keep that between you and Bla-" 

"That's enough," Draco interrupted Pansy's innuendo. Pansy looked down at her plate after deciding not to give Draco a dirty glance. Draco's fight with Finnigan had a better affect than he had been expecting. 

"Doesn't he look like shit," Theo nodded towards Finnigan. Finnigan did, in fact, look like absolute shit. The bruising salves Draco was sure Madam Pomphrey gave him would not take effect until tomorrow. Finnigan's eye was swollen shut. His nose wasn't broken, but was a dark purple. There was a large bruise on his jaw that spread to his lip. "Actually, I'm surprised he's still walking after the way you handled him… you were kind of scary actually." The last part was almost whispered to Draco at his side. 

"Really?" Pansy overheard, as she always does, "Draco, scary? Please, only if you're a Hufflepuff fist year girl." 

"There's a reason why no one has bothered Draco since he won the fight, let's keep that in mind," Theo reminded. 

With a huff Daphne countered, "That's because he's been in Professor Snape's office all day, we're probably going to have a replay of Weasley breaking Draco's nose by the end of the night." 

"We'll just have to handle him ourselves, right mate?" Goyle grinned. 

"I don't start fights, but I will finish one," Draco disagreed. The last thing the Slytherins needed was more attention. Daphne snorted loudly next to him. Astoria hushed her quickly. 

"Is there something you would like to add?" Pansy retorted to Daphne. 

"No, but I'm sure you do," Daphne countered. 

"Cunt on a warpath," Crabbe grumbled. 

Astoria chunked her goblet at him. Pansy stood and shrieked at her, dripping wet from the splash zone of the tossed goblet. Draco was so thankful for the table between her and Daphne whenever Daphne stood up, followed by her sister. Crabbe started yelling. Everyone using incredibly colorful language, their voices blistering loud. 

Theo gently pulled at his sleeve before gently scooting down the bench. Draco picked up his plate, piled high with food to make up for Draco's lack of lunch. He followed Theo down the bench, leaving his bag as the yelling only got louder. Heads from all across the Great Hall turned towards the ruckus. 

The plate from Draco's hands suddenly disappeared as Daphne shoved his entire meal into Pansy's face, Astoria holding Pansy by the tie to make sure the plate was well shoved, shutting Pansy up for once. Draco gasped in mourning of his lost meal as the entire hall started cheering. 

Theo and Draco quickly moved out of range whenever Pansy climbed over the table, pushing Daphne to the floor. Students stood up, gathering around the fight tightly. 

"This is above my pay grade," Draco mumbled, too tired to be bothered. He started making himself another plate, working around the distracted students before taking a seat next to Blaise. Blaise was sitting across from Bulstrode, at the far end of the table, separated from the other students. Bulstrode raised her eyebrows at him as he dug into his large pile of food. 

Theo stood awkwardly, unsure if he should follow Draco's example or not. "No one's going to notice, not with Astoria kicking Crabbe in the balls," Draco explained over a mouth full of food. Everyone's attention was on the fight. Students standing on tables, gathering in a tight crowd around the entertainment. Professors failing to investigate. Theo sat next to Blaise, a blush on his cheeks. Draco rolled his eyes as Bulstrode tsked. They shared an unexpected moment of comradery. 

"What happened?" Blaise asked. 

Theo supplied cheerfully, "Crabbe called Daphne a cunt." 

"That'll do it," Bulstrode snorted to Draco's vigorous nod in agreement. The crowd cheered as another plate of food flew through the air.

"Why is Pansy the one pulling Daphne's hair then?" Blaise investigated. 

"Because she's Pansy," Draco supplied. Their laughter was cut off by a familiar voice from behind Draco. 

"Malfoy," Severus interrupted. Draco slouched at the unsaid order. 

He motioned to his food, still mostly untouched, "But Professor-" 

"This is your house, Malfoy," Severus sneered. 

Draco cursed under his breath before getting up to help Severus stop the fighting. "No one is even bleeding," he mumbled. 

"No, but I think the Crabbe line will not continue after the dealings with the youngest Greengrass," Severus whispered before bringing himself to his full, intimidating height. Draco tried not to seem too pleased by Severus's comment. The pair pushed through the crowd.

Crabbe was sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. Goyle had Astoria in an impressive head lock, but he was bleeding as Astoria was biting down with all of her tiny might. Pansy and Daphne were rolling on the floor, both covered in food. 

"You separate Greengrass and Parkinson," Severus ordered, before moving to help a whimpering Goyle. 

"I'm not even a Professor, and you get the easy pair?" Draco grumbled. He knelt where Pansy and Daphne were still rolling, Pansy had a fist full of Daphne's hair, but Daphne had her by the tie. "Alright-" How was he supposed to handle this? "- I think you've both made your points." He gently touched both girls on the shoulder. Quickly dodging a fist. "Merlin," he backed off. 

He turned back to Severus, who just motioned for him to continued. 

"Move out of my way, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall brushed by him with a scowl towards Severus. 

The girls had managed to stand, Daphne had Pansy's arm held behind her back and was shoving Pansy's face into a bowl of stew. Pansy had given up all attempts of getting away, and was stabbing Daphne repeatedly in the leg with a fork. 

"Ms. Greengrass!" McGonagall yelled. Daphne froze, still holding Pansy by the neck in the stew. "I think that's enough." 

Daphne let go of Pansy, only to be hit over the head with an empty bowl of stew. Draco flinched in sympathy. 

"Girls!" McGonagall gasped as the pair started to pull each other's hair. "What has gotten into you two?" she scowled whenever the pair had been separated. Daphne and Pansy just looked down at their feet. "All of you, come with me," she ordered. The crowd dispersed. Draco was just about to slip away whenever Severus grabbed him by the shoulder, "You too," he growled. 

 

Draco had been dismissed early, has he had not be a part of the actual fighting, only a witness. However, he still missed dinner. His stomach complained loudly as he barged into his dorm. 

His day, somehow, was managing to only get worst. 

Blaise and Theo separated, both red in the face. Draco gaped stupidly. Theo quickly buttoned up his shirt while Blaise buttoned up… his pants. Draco put his head in his hands, groaning in frustration. 

"Shut the door!" Theo hissed. 

Draco obeyed. "Obliviate me, please. Mercy Merlin," he begged. 

"We thought you would be longer-" Theo shuttered.

"This is so stupid, you are stupid!" Draco almost yelled. "Do you have any idea-" 

"Yes, we have an idea," Blaise interrupted. His voice steady for someone buttoning up his shirt. "Where is everyone else?" 

"I was let out early- that's not the point," Draco focused. 

"Well…" Theo drew out, "If everyone else is in detention… this is one of the few times we have privacy.." 

"Ew, no," Draco covered his ears with his hands. Theo kept talking as he started to push Draco out of the room. "This is my room," he argued. 

"Yes, and unless you want to watch, you'll leave," Blaise gave one more shove and Draco was out the door. 

"Put some privacy charms up," Draco whispered, making sure they took his advice before leaving them to whatever. Draco's stomach was not affected at all by the show he was just forced to witnessed, growling loudly. He made his way down the stairs and into the Common Room. Draco could work on homework or more research on Occlumency. 

"Shit," Draco had left his bookbag in the Great Hall. 

The walk to the Great Hall was a quiet one. Lights out was in an hour, most students had taken to their Common Rooms. Draco wasn't feeling patient, so he took a less travel routine, taking the west stairs up to the main hall. The west stairs were narrow with no paintings along the way. Few torches supplied little light. He paused whenever he heard a voice, a quiet, girl voice. Draco poked his head around the corner, Mafalda was sitting on the stairs, accompanied by a familiar orange cat. 

Draco walked slowly to her, not wanting to scare her. She nodded easily, cooing at the cat Draco had previously named Bentley. Bentley, rubbed up against Draco's leg as he tried to pass. "Horrendous animal," Draco bent down to pet the cat. With this angle, he could see the bruise on her cheek. 

"Play nice," Mafalda teased gently. Draco sat down on the step below her, stretching his legs out. 

"Bentley knows what I mean, don’t you Bentley?" Draco scratched him behind an ear. 

"That he's a horrendous animal?" Mafalda asked. 

"Yes, exactly. And he knows it," Draco nuzzled Bentley with his nose. 

"What happened to your hand?" she observed. 

"I think you know, Mafalda." 

"Well, who doesn't?" 

Draco continued to pet Bentley. Mafalda drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "Why did you ask if you already knew what happened?" Draco inquired. When Mafalda didn't answer, Draco spoke in a gentle voice, "What do you want to know?" 

She eventually asked, "You don't seem like the sort of guy to get into fights." 

"Not ones that I can't win," Draco joked, but Mafalda just frowned in thought. "What's wrong?" he investigated. 

"Was the fight just about winning?" 

Draco sighed, he hadn't thought he would be asked all of the hard questions by a twelve year old. "Yes." 

"But you didn't just win," Mafalda noted.

"Didn't I?" 

"Yes, but… the way you won-" 

"I don't think the way matters, just the results," Draco dismissed. 

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid," she snapped. 

"Fine," he scowled, "what is so unique about the way I won a brawl with another student?" 

"You didn't use your wand. Why?" 

With a sigh he explained, "I wanted to win in a way that I wouldn't have to fight again." 

"How?" 

"By obliterating him." 

Mafalda touched her cheek.

"What happened?" he prompted. 

"I can handle myself," she ignored his question. 

"I have no doubt that you can." 

Bentley decided that he had enough, hurrying up the stairs without so much as a good bye. "Wait," Draco outstretched his hand, "come back." 

"Look what you did," she teased. 

"I'm the worst. I come here, ruin your quality time with Bentley-" 

"Bentley?" 

"-the cat, darling, keep up."

"That was a cat?" 

A roar of laughter escape Draco's chest. "I think, under the-" he scrunched his face in mock. 

Mafalda made a noise that reminded him of a dying mermaid that he could only assume was a laugh. "What the fuck Mafalda," he wheezed, clutching his chest. "Mafalda," he repeated, "Merlin, that's an awful name." 

"Yes, we've been over this," she rolled her eyes. 

"Why don't you go by something different if you don't like it?" he suggested. 

"Any bright ideas?" 

"Mafalda, Falda, Alda…" 

"These are just getting worst," Mafalda interrupted.

"Alfie!" Draco snapped. 

"That's stupid," she dismissed. 

"You're stupid," he argued. 

"Why are you even here?" 

"Well, if you must know, I was on my way- shit!" he stood up, scampering over Alfie. "Looking for my bookbag," he called over his shoulder. The time for lights out was almost arriving, Draco doubted his Prefect badge would carry much weight after the fight he had gotten into earlier that day. 

There was almost on one in the halls at this hour. Everyone had contended themselves in their respected common rooms for the night. Anyone he did pass kept their eyes downward. The fight had been worth the consequences. 

His bookbag wasn't in the Great Hall. "Fuck," he muttered to himself in the almost darkness. He tried something else. Pulling out his wand, he chanted, "Accio, bookbag." Nothing. He sighed. Suddenly missing his homework. 

"Draco." 

"Son of a-" Draco gasped. "Potter, what are you doing here?" Potter was a couple of steps behind him. He didn't smile, only motioned for Draco to follow. "Potter, we can't be seen together," Draco pointed out before they slipped out of the Great Hall. Potter pulled out a cloak from his bookbag, covering Draco completely. 

"Invisibility cloak," Potter whispered. 

"So that's how you do it," Draco whispered enough for Potter to hear. A grin formed on Potter's lips. 

Draco followed closely behind Potter, taking hold of his wrist to let Potter know that he was here. He was taking him to the Room of Hidden Things, Draco realized. The few students who passed by left them alone. They waked in silence down the hall. Eventually Potter stopped, turning to look at where he suspected Draco stood. Potter slipped his wrist out of Draco's grip before taking his hand through the cloak instead. Draco's heart hammered in his chest. He could only feel the pressure of Potter's hand, not the texture or the heat. The fact that Potter wanted to hold his hand, wanted to be close to Draco, made him dizzy. 

Him being close to Potter would only hurt him. A twisting knife hit his gut. He just held Potter's hand, enjoying the sensation for as long as he could. 

They arrived at the room, opening the door to the small room with a fireplace. Potter turned to him, before gently taking off the cloak over Draco's head. "Thanks," Draco greeted Potter with a smile. 

A hand ruffled his hair. "You're cute with your hair like that," Potter flattered to Draco's blushing. 

"Leave me and my hair alone," Draco batted him away. 

"Is that how you're going to treat your amazing best friend?" Potter teased. 

"Alright Potter, what makes you so-" Draco smelt food. "Food," he stated. Potter giggled, "Where's the food, Potter?" he investigated. His stomach jumping at the idea of a meal. A hot meal. 

"Over there," Potter motioned to a small table next to the fireplace on the far side of the room. Draco walked over from behind the couch, which was pink tonight. The smell of dinner met him. The table was set for one with his favorite dish, beef stew and scones. He started to drool immediately. He helped himself to fulling his bowl. "You looked like you were about to cry whenever Daphne took your plate at dinner, so I figured…" Potter trailed of, taking the seat across the small table without a bowl in front of him. Potter nibbled on a scone. 

Draco shoved food into his mouth, "Merlin, Potter. I love you, you're promoted to best friend." 

The only sound was Draco's spoon scrapping against the bowl. Whenever Draco finally looked up at his silent companion, Potter was just staring at him. Draco suddenly became too aware of their knees brushing together under the table. "You've seen me eat before, I don't know what's the big deal," Draco broke the silence. 

"What did you just say?" 

"…you being promoted? Fine, I suppose I can promote Daphne instead…" Draco shrugged. Of course Potter didn’t need a best friend, he already had two. 

"Before that." 

Draco chewed, thinking back. He almost choked. "Ah, shit, just forget about it," he stumbled. His neck hot. 

"Wait, hold on-" Potter interrupted.

"Where did you get all the food?" Draco wouldn't let him finish.

"Draco, did you just-" 

Draco just spoke louder, "And how did you know what my favorite meal is?" 

"Will you just let me talk?" Potter argued. 

"Nope. Are those scones? Potter, you shouldn't." 

"No scones until we talk ab-" 

"Helping me watch my diet, what a mate," Draco spoke loudly, nearly yelling now. Maybe he could just yell this problem away. 

"Did you mean it?" Potter asked. Draco voice caught in his throat. This was too much. Not whenever he was just about to break Potter's heart. "Draco," Potter reached across the small table to hold Draco's hand for the second time tonight. 

"Did you cook all of this yourself? You might have some career potential after all," Draco let Potter hold his hand, but he couldn't bring himself to squeeze back. 

"Please," Potter whispered. His gaze heavy on Draco. 

"Nothing can come of this," Draco pointed out instead of answering the question Potter knew the answer to. Potter didn't pulled his hand away, only squeezed his hand. Draco flinched, his knuckles were bruised. Potter loosened his grip, running his thumb over his knuckles gently. 

"Dobby," Potter answered his sight still on Draco's hand. "I suppose that's why he made your favorite." Draco finished eating, pushing his bowl away. Potter stood, bringing his chair over so that he could sit close to Draco, bringing his bookbag. "Let's fix up that hand," Potter explained. 

The table disappeared the containments of dinner, suppling a large bowl of warm water and a clean rag. Draco brought his hand up to the table. Potter rummaged through his bag, pulling out bandages and healing salves. "Why haven't you healed your hand yet? It'll take longer now," Potter lectured. Draco swallowed as Potter gently cleaned his hand. Potter's touch was light, as if Draco was made of glass.

"Did I make things worse?" Potter whispered. 

"What do you mean?" Draco inquired. 

"Did you get into a fight because of the stupid interview?" Potter clarified, now drying Draco's hand. 

"You know it's not that simple." 

"Of course it's not, because nothing ever is." Potter gently worked the healing salve into Draco's skin. This much work wasn't needed for bruised knuckles, but Draco was sure Potter knew that. He enjoyed Potter's touch too much to pull away. 

"I'm sorry," the truth escape from Draco mouth before he could stop. 

"It's not your fault." 

"It's not yours either." 

Potter looked up from his work. "I made things harder for you." 

"Yes, but you had a good reason." 

"But-" 

"Potter," Draco covered Potter's hand on his, "I'm fine. You know I can handle myself, you don't need to worry." 

"You scared me," Potter seemed surprised as Draco by his words. "The way you fought, I wanted to pull you off, but I couldn't stop… watching." Draco let go of Potter's hand. "I thought you weren't going to stop." Draco didn't speak. Potter now knew of the part of him that was twisted. Draco had shown too much of his soul. Potter continued with his work of Draco's hand. "But when you did," Potter went on, "when you did stop you were so… cold." 

This was for the best. Potter would move on, forget Draco and the darkness within him. The distance would only help Potter, Draco would be selfish to try and mend the relationship that was between them. "We don't have to meet anymore if you don’t want," his voice didn’t shake, but he couldn't meet Potter's eyes. Draco couldn’t make himself see the relief that he would find there. "I understand if this changes things, if you're uncomfortable, I could make other arrangements for someone else to teach you Occlumency." 

The hands working on bandaging his stopped. "Is this because I tried to kiss you?" Potter's voice shook. Draco looked up, Potter's eyes were glassy in tears unsplit. 

"No, of course not," Draco comforted, "I just thought that after the fight with Finnigan, you wouldn't… want me anymore." 

"I'm not scared of you, Draco," Potter snapped, "I'm jealous of you." 

"Jealous?" 

Potter carefully worked the fabric along Draco's hand. His hands had stopped shaking. "Jealous of your control," was the clarification. 

"My control?" 

"Yes, I'm…" Potter sighed, "I'm a mess." Pity stabbed Draco's heart. Of course Potter wanted control, there was so much out of his. Draco was only about to take more options away from him. Potter finished with his hand, but Draco didn't pull away. 

"Potter," he didn't know how to tell him this. "You know I care about you right?" 

"What's going on Draco?"

"Just listen first," Draco begged. His stomach coiling, but not from hunger. When Potter nodded in agreement, he continued. "I don't think your connection with the Dark Lord is caused by regular magic," he began. "Frankly, I think I've shown you all that I can with what information I have to work with." 

"What are you saying?" 

"I talked to Professor Dumbledore and we think you should let Snape teach you Occlumency." 

Potter looked as if he had been slapped. Draco took both of his hands in his, comforting him, "This isn’t because of anything you did, I just don’t think that I can teach you anymore." 

"I can try harder," Potter looked down at his hands. 

"Potter, this isn't a reflection of your abilities." 

"I can be better, just let me try," Potter's voice was shaking. Draco reached out, gently cupping Potter's cheek.

Potter pushed himself away so quickly he chair fell as he stood, walking away from him. Draco hurried after him before he could think. He reached out to Potter, grabbing his shoulder only for Potter to turn to face him, hands clenching at the front of his robes. Draco's heart snapped into two as he realized that Potter was crying. 

"Please," Potter begged. "Please, I can be better." He shook Draco by his cloak. Draco couldn't move, he hadn't seen Potter cry like this since Cedric had died. 

"You won't have to deal with me anymore. I won't try to kiss you. We can just-" a sob wracked through Potter's body. Draco's chin quivered. "We can just do the lessons, I'll try harder. Practice more," Potter cried. Gasping for air. "I'm sorry," Potter begged. 

Draco wrapped his arms around Potter, pulling him into a hug. 

Tears found their way into Draco's eyes at the feeling of Potter sobbing against him. Draco wouldn't let them spill. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please forgive me, I won’t cause you anymore trouble-" Potter kept chatting into Draco's shoulder, now wet from Potter's tears. Draco cupped the back of Potter's head, his other arm still wrapped around his waist. 

"Shh," Draco hushed gently whenever he was sure he could talk without sobbing. He kissed Potter's temple, "Hush, just breath Harry, just breath." 

Potter wrapped his arms tightly around Draco, bringing them somehow closer. Draco tightened his hold on Potter, who had stopped chatting the sting of apologies but was still crying into Draco's neck. 

"Don’t leave me," was the quiet prayer Harry whispered into Draco's neck. 

"Never. I promise," Draco swore. Believing with all of his soul in that moment that this was a promise he would be able to keep.

The tears stopped, but Potter didn't loosen his grip. He sniffed, laying his cheek on Draco shoulder, his face still wet. Draco's heart pounded in his chest, he couldn't steady his heart beat. He had done this to Potter. He had caused him to weep similar to when Potter had seen his friend killed. What sort of friend does that? How could Draco say he had Potter's best interest at heart only to turn around and make him weep?

"You talk to Dumbledore?" Potter asked, his voice quiet as he broke through Draco's thoughts. 

"Yes," Draco answered. 

"He won't even look at me." 

Draco wished he would hold Potter tighter. "It's not your fault." 

Potter didn’t say anything for a long time. Occasionally sniffling, but never pulling away from the comforting arms around him. 

"I live with my aunt and uncle," Potter broke the silence, still not looking at Draco but stayed within his grasp. "And I don't know what I did, but they… they ignore me," Potter took a deep shaking breath, "They hate me." Draco kissed his head. "I don’t know what I did, but they hate me so much." Potter didn’t start crying, but Draco could hear the disappointment in his voice. 

"I'm sorry," was all the comfort Draco could offer. 

"It's not your fault," Potter pulled away from Draco. Meeting his gaze. Potter looked so tired, as if he had aged years in the little time they've been together. 

"I can come with you to your lessons," Draco offered. 

Potter shook his head, "I don’t think Snape would like that." 

Draco grinned, "Since when do you care what he thinks?"


	15. Chapter 15

The room was like walking into a dream. 

One moment Draco was in the hall of the ground floor of Hogwarts, then he was outside in late evening. Soft grass replaced the worn brick floor of Hogwarts. The air was fresh and crisp with the warm smell of grass. Vines covered the walls, tree branches extending from the higher areas of the walls. The ceiling clearly showing the night sky, full of bright stars. 

"Headmaster Dumbledore adjusted the room more to my liking," their new Professor explained. "Do come in." 

The students stayed close together as they entered the room in awe. Daphne pressed against Draco's side a warm smile on her lips as she took in her surroundings. In the middle of the room, a large fire flickered on the floor. Seeming ever ablaze as the ash around the fire piled, but there was no wood in the center. 

"This," Professor Firenze began, "is Omen Fire…" Draco hated Divinations, tending to tune out. The centaur had replaced Professor Trelawney last week whenever Umbridge had fired her. This was their first lesson with him. Firenze stood behind a fire, lighting his tall stature and sharp features.

As Professor Firenze continued, Draco searched for Potter. He was standing next to Weasley, as Granger had the good sense not to take this course. Potter's eyes were unseeing with deep bags underneath. His head was drooping towards his chin, Draco had no doubt that if he wasn't standing he would fall asleep.

The grueling lessons with Severus were taking their toll. Draco himself was tired from the two nights a week he spent as an observer. He couldn't imagine how Potter must feel. Severus was a formidable, unforgiving teacher. Potter wouldn't back down, he wouldn’t ask for a break. The two would work into the late hours of the morning some nights. 

By the third lesson, Severus had suggested that Draco's presence wasn't need. He was about to agree whenever he had caught Potter's eye, silently begging him not to leave. Of course, Draco then refused to leave. He was grateful to be there, to sooth the tension between them, to buffer whatever fights almost broke out. 

They still weren't making enough progress. Potter was still having dreams. 

A hand suddenly shoved Draco forward whenever Firenze asked for volunteers. He stumbled, managing not to fall, but there was no way for him to scamper back unnoticed. "I'll go," he formally volunteered after he felt everyone's gaze on him, not really having an idea of what he agreed to. 

"Very well, you may begin," Firenze instructed. Draco had no idea what he was supposed to do. He just stared at the centaur, wishing for death. Professor Firenze raised his eyebrows. Draco slowly shrugged, the class trying to hush their laughter. "Oh, I see," Firenze realized, "The ash will not be hot, you have nothing to worry about." 

"Because that’s where he's confused," Daphne murmured behind him. 

Draco ignored her, "Thank you Professor." He knelt down, taking a handful of ash. 

"Both hands are preferable," Firenze gently guided. The ash was soft and cool against Draco's hands. He guessed about what to do next. He tossed both handfuls into the fire. The second he released the ash, his back shivered as his spine tensed. His neck pricked as if he was being watched in an empty room by an invisible force. 

The cool grey ash floated above the warm fire before collecting in the center. Draco's hands started to sweat. Twisting into a ball, the ash changed from grey into a blood red, then to a deep black. The ball of ash only compressed tighter into a sphere, shaking with the force of compression. The air was trapped in Draco's lungs. He couldn't hear anything over his own heartbeat, pounding in his chest painfully. 

The black sphere within the fire sprang to life. Draco heard gasps as the ash seemed to only grow, twisting within the smoke before rising in the shape of a large, skeletal, winged horse. He should scream. He couldn’t catch his own breath as the overpowering need to run took over his instincts. He couldn't move. Students gasped behind him. Firenze stepped back, arms protecting his face. Draco should leave. Run to safety. He could feel hands pulling him backwards, but his feet wouldn't respond. 

The Thestral stood on their hind legs, wings extending fully before disappearing in a puff of smoke and a blistering scream of a unknowable voice. 

Draco swallowed, his throat dry. Someone was shaking him. Potter, both hands on his shoulders. "Draco, Draco. Can you hear me?" 

"Yeah," was all he could croak. He took Potter's hands from his shoulders. "You're bleeding," Draco noted, his head felt heavy. 

Potter pulled his hands away, inspecting them before slowly looking up at Draco. "That's your blood, Draco." 

Draco lifted his hands to his face. Someone screamed. His hands were dipped in crimson blood. 

His stomach lurched painfully. His knees buckled beneath him. He covered his mouth as bile jumped to his throat. Gasping as he felt the warm liquid drip down his chin. 

Professor Firenze gently touched his shoulder before kneeling down in front of him. He held a bowl of water and a towel. He ordered for students to back away, allowing Draco room to breathe. Firenze took Draco's hands gently, dripping them into the warm water. The blood disappeared, turning back into ash in the water. Graying the bowl. Draco wiped his face with the towel, ignoring how his hands were shaking as Professor Firenze stood up. He addressed the class in a steady tone, "Omen Fire shows us our fates, but rarely does the ash give a direct form." There was a thick silence that tickled Draco's spine. "What could be some meanings behind the ash for Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Firenze asked the frozen class.

Everyone knew what his omen was. Death. The word vibrated from the front of everyone's thoughts. The word laced the back of Draco's throat. The word couldn’t be washed like the blood from his hands. The word was his omen that he wore like a brand burned into his skin. 

Draco stood whenever he was cleaned. He looked down, unable to see the word in anyone's eyes. 

"No one has a suggestion? Mrs. Patil, Madam Trelawney as told me you are quiet adept at Divination. Do you have any suggestions?" Firenze asked as he walked to behind the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. Daphne took her spot by Draco's side. 

"Um," Patil pursed her lips in thought, "well, a convoluted image could mean an unsure future. I'm not sure about the blood." 

"Very well Mrs. Patil, would anyone like to elaborate…" Professor Firenze lectured. What? What did everyone else see? Draco glanced at Potter, who met his eyes instantly. Potter had seen the Thestral as well. Draco shook his head slightly. Potter faced the front of the class as if nothing had transpired between them. Draco face the front of the class. Firenze caught his gaze, peering into Draco's eyes. Firenze had seen the Thestral too. "… that is the properties of transformed Omen Ash. Any questions?" Shit. Draco hadn't been paying attention. "No, who would like to go next?" 

Daphne stepped forward with a bright smile. "I would Professor." 

She followed through the same motions as Draco, throwing the ash into the fire. 

The fire extinguish as if dowsed with water. 

"Oh, um, did I break it?" Daphne blinked. 

"Damn it Daphne, this is way we can't have nice things," Draco pretended to scowled her to a classroom full of laughter. The class broke into chatter. Draco looked towards Professor Firenze, who was just staring into the circle of ash. His shoulders slumped, his hands worked together in front of him. He looked twenty years older. 

"Professor…?" Daphne asked, "is everything okay?" 

Firenze looked up from the circle of ash. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but Draco didn't think anyone else could tell. "This is the perfect time for me to show you how to relight Omen Fire." Firenze continued the lecture. Daphne stepped back, Draco gently reached out to her, touching her elbow. Daphne nodded at him, a small smile on her lips. 

Draco watched as Potter stepped up to the fire next. Unsurprisingly, he got the sign for doom and gloom. Potter just shrugged with the old news Firenze bursting into laughter at Potter's response. Potter turned, he met Draco's eyes, winking. Draco hit his snort behind a cough, his stomach fluttering and his neck blushing. 

He tried to pay attention, he really did. Only so much effort could be placed mentally into watching pictures turn in the fire.

Class dragged on. Draco had no idea what half of the swirly pictures meant. His was the only ash to actually come out of the fire. He didn't know if that was a bad thing or a horrible thing, but he suspected that an omen for death and blood on his hands wouldn't foretell a sunny day. 

"Class dismissed. Mr. Malfoy, would you mind staying after class? Mr. Potter wait outside if you don't mind," Professor Firenze called to him. 

Draco waited for his peers to mill out of the classroom. Firenze answered a few questions Patil had for him. He smiled warmly down at the students he walked them to the exit, gently closing the door behind them. He wasn't smiling when he turned back to Draco, but he wasn't frowning either. He was trying to be claim. 

"You wanted to speak with me, Professor?" Draco played dumb. He was getting tired of adults pretending they knew what was going on. 

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy I did," Firenze stood before him, Draco had to look up at the tall centaur. "About your omen today… I wanted to apologize, if I had known how the fire would react, I wouldn't have placed you into that situation." 

Draco eyebrows roused in surprise, "You can't be at fault for this, sir. No apology necessary." 

"Very well, thank you for your understanding," Firenze nodded. 

Draco blinked. There was an itch. He shouldn't ask, he already knew the answer, but… "Professor?" 

"Yes?" 

"The fire, the ash… no one else had the same reaction, why?" Draco gave in. 

"Well… the fire works in mysterious ways that aren't always comprehensible to us, but perhaps the event foretold is happening sooner for you than the other classmates," Firenze guessed. 

"Event?" 

"I'm only theorizing, you must understand this is not an exact reading, but I'm inclined to believe that the omen was in reference to a specific, traumatic event. In my experience, that is what causes the strongest reactions from omen fire." 

Draco licked his teeth, "Am I fair to assume that the event will not be a pleasant one?" A heavy hand was laid on his shoulder. A dry laugh escaped his lips for he could stop, "Of course this would hap-" He snapped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clacked. He swallowed, looking down. Firenze only squeezed his shoulder. "May I be excused?" he croaked. 

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." 

Potter smiled at him as he left. Draco made himself smile back. 

 

"Again Potter!" 

"Wait, please, not again-" 

"Legilimens!" Severus cast. 

Potter's head snapped back in his chair. His hair wet with sweat against his forehead. Draco's stomach twisted as Potter struggled against the spell, clenching the arms of the wooden chair. He had to look away. 

Potter's panicked voice echoed against the small lavatory. He was failing against Severus's attack. Draco turned his attention to something else. The dark room was lit by blue torches. Severus's potions and supplies littered the tables closest to the walls. Draco focused on the large bookshelf behind Potter, struggling to read the spines of the books, but needing the distraction. He had taken the seat on one of the stools. 

He had to distance himself from the torture Potter was going through. If Draco was honest with himself, he knew in his bones that this was what Potter needed. Hearing Potter's painful gasp made his teeth buzz. He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to put a stop to the lesson. They had been at this for hours. This was the longest session they had have. Severus was determined to make progress after weeks of nothing, but Draco couldn't help but wonder what drove his desperation. 

"You're weak," Severus spat out, "weak and pathetic." Potter slumped forward in his chair, sweat plastering his shirt to his chest that was gasping for air. His hands were shaking on the armrest. When Potter didn't respond, Severus snapped, "Is this how you are going to face the Dark Lord? Trembling and weak?" 

"I'm not weak," Potter looked up his voice sure but his eyes tired.

"Prove yourself then, Legilimens!" Severus was relentless. 

Draco winced in sympathy at Potter's screams. His eyes glazed over as Severus entered his memories. Draco stood, stretching his back as Potter's eyes tightened in concentration. His attempts were futile, there is no point of putting up a wall of hay against a dragon. Draco walked behind Potter's seat over to the large bookshelf. Most of these couldn't be found in the library, not even in the Restricted section, he couldn't stop his curiosity. 

"I didn't give you permission," Severus snapped whenever he released Potter of his mind, his hand resting on the desk next to him, his breathing shallowed. 

"Hmmm," Draco flipped through a large book, noting Severus's personal writings in the margin. He tucked the book under his arm, making his way back to the hard seat he had been sitting in for the last four hours. 

Severus glared at him, but didn't move to take the book from Draco. "If you're not assisting, why don't you leave then?" Severus barked. He was getting tired. 

"I'll be happy to assist if you have any suggestions, otherwise I don't leave if he doesn't," Draco opened the book to the first page. He knew better than to suggest any adjustment to Severus, who had ignored him several times in the weeks they've been meeting. Reminding Draco with a sneer that he was the teacher and that Draco himself had already attempted at teaching Potter Occlumency. No one moved. Draco looked up from his book. Severus had yet to move from where he prompted himself up on the table. Potter didn't look in any shape to continue, his body slumped forward and his head down. They usually needed the push to stop, Draco would always supply the excuse. "Let's be done for the night," he gently suggested. 

"Not until he makes progress," Severus dismissed, "you didn't make any progress before because you coddled him." 

"We made lodes of progress before you showed up, actually," Potter snapped from his chair. 

"Legilimens!" Potter's head hit the back of the chair with the force of the spell, his eyes twisted in pain. He didn't even have a chance to prepare himself. "Pathetic," Severus shouted as Potter went slack as the spell stopped. 

"I'm not," Potter yelled back. 

"You are. Pathetic. Undisciplined. Useless-" 

"I'm not!" Potter's voice was wet. He thought he was, some part of him deep inside. 

"I don't know why Dumbledore wants me to bother teaching Occlumency, you're nothing against the Dark Lord-" 

"Stop." 

"Nothing against his powers-" 

"I know!" Potter screamed. 

Severus raised his wand. 

"No more, please." 

"Legilimens," Severus continued. 

He would be tired, two hours later, if Potter's screams didn't dig into his skull like claws on a chalkboard. He had gone past tired, his brain was buzzing with screams and the contents of the book he had to focus on to stop himself from stepping in. Severus's teaching style was… idiotic. Draco had seen ruthless, he had been through ruthless teaching by the hands of his own mother. Severus was just being petty. Weeks had gone by, Potter's dreams only worsened. Draco had turned to Severus because he had believed in his teaching, Draco himself had flourished under Professor Snape. Flourish under Severus at his best. 

"Legilimens." 

Potter didn't even bother to yell. 

This wasn't his best. 

"It's four," Draco interrupted rubbing the dull pressure behind his eyes. 

"Very observant, Malfoy," Severus droned, "If you would like to leave you're welcome to." 

"You're just wearing him out," he reasoned.

"Draco," Potter added, "I'll be fine. Go to bed." He had deep blue circles under his eyes. His hair was disheveled more so than usual. The color had gone from his face. He looked tired, but what was more concern is who defeated he sounded. He knew Severus wasn't going to stop until they had a breakthrough, or classes started the next morning. Potter was determined for the later. 

Draco sighed, "Anyone, even you," he pointed out to Severus, "would break after six hours of this nonstop." 

"The Dark Lord is relentless in his efforts," Severus argued. 

"We all have an early morning starting in three hours," Draco begged. 

Severus steadied him with a tired gaze. Draco rose from his stood, his thighs sore from sitting. He walked to Severus, lowering his voice so that Potter wouldn't hear. Severus never liked to be challenged publicly. "He's not going to make any progress, you've done what you can-" 

"That's not enough," Severus interrupted, rubbing a heavy hand over his drooping eyes. 

"You've done what you can for now," Draco resting a hand on his Godfather's shoulder that were weighted down with the responsibility of the knowledge he carries. 

Severus nodded, turning away to the door. "Good night Draco," he called back. After a pause, Severus ordered, "Draco, get Potter a light sleeping draught from the cabinet." 

Draco helped himself to the cabinet, letting Potter unravel his mind in piece. "Let's get out of here," Potter was standing right behind Draco. 

"Okay," Draco whispered. He gently rested his hand on Potter's shoulder, leading him to the door. Potter's feet dragged, Draco thought briefly about carrying him. They made their way out of the lavatory, climbing the stone stairs slowly, their bodies weighted down in sleep. Draco fanatized about his soft bed with deep pillows. 

They stepped out into the potion's classroom. Quietly making their way to the large wooden doorway. Draco poked his head out, he doubted anyone would be on petrol at this hour, but he needed to be sure. When he knew the coast was clear he nodded to Potter. He stepped out of the classroom, the Slytherin common room wasn't too far from here and Potter would use his Invisibility Cloak to return to his common room. 

"Wait," Potter stopped him with a hand on his bicep. He turned, Potter stood close, not moving his hand. 

"Yes?" Draco whispered. Potter didn't answer. "What, do you want a goodnight kiss?" Draco suggested. He should rip his tongue out. At Potter's playful expression, he covered his blushing face in his hands. "I'm tired," he insisted, "and stupid. Ignore me." 

Potter's laugh made him smile, "I'll keep that in mind for next time." 

"Shut up, go to bed," Draco teased. 

"Wait," Potter stopped him again, "have you ever seen the sunrise?" 

"Don't be daft." 

"Please, we never hang out anymore," Potter pleated. Draco wouldn't say no. Not to the twinkle suddenly in Potter's eye. Not to the easy smile on his lips. Not to the joy in his voice. Draco couldn't say no to Potter, not if what he could give him was within his power. Potter grinned widely as he slowly realized that Draco wasn't going to say no. How could he? "It's not like you're going to say no," Potter leaned in, his nose almost touching Draco's. Draco scoffed. Potter pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket, not bothering with the Invisibility Cloak. 

Draco followed as Potter led. The parchment turned into a map of some sorts with Potter's casting. "Shouldn't we use the cloak?" Draco uttered into Potter's ear. Potter only smiled and gave Draco the map, looking over his shoulder. "So that's how you do it," Draco awed. Potter had to shuffle his giggled behind a hand. 

The castle was quiet, but to Draco, for the first time in a long time walking down these halls he didn't feel so alone. 

Potter took him to the Astronomy Tower. Professor Sinistra lived on one of the main levels, so Draco complained loudly about the stairs, having Potter bent over in laughter. Potter was always quick to a laugh after Occlumency lessons, he needed the pickup. 

"Merlin, Potter, you really are an old lady," Draco teased as he was the first to reach the top of the tower. Draco walked around the large planetary system built between the two levels. Potter walked around the large moving system on the opposite side. They observe the moving planets and moons dancing around each other in silence. 

"What did Firenze talk to you about after class?" Potter called out to him. 

Draco smiled, feeling giddy in this time with Potter. Away from their usual place that they have carved out for themselves. "The usual doom and gloom." 

"The Thestral?" Potter was standing next to him now. 

"Or the blood on my hands, neither one of those are good signs," Draco shrugged. They stepped out onto the balcony. Both instantly shivering against the high cold of the night. Potter wrapped them both in his cloak, standing close. Eventually, Draco suggested they sit. They leaned against the wall of the tower next to the large entryway. Potter rested his head on Draco shoulder. His hair tickling Draco's neck. A hand found Draco's. Potter was holding his hand. Draco's stomach would flip if he wasn't so sleepy. 

Draco opened the map onto his lap. He studied the corridors of the map, there was few footsteps between the halls. The text clumping into an almost unreadable picture in the common rooms. Draco pointed to a hallway he didn't recognize, motioning to Potter. "That’s one of the ways to Hogsmead," Potter answered. Draco asked about another, "That's how you get to the Shrieking Shack," he explained, not moving from his place on Draco's shoulder. 

"The haunted mansion?" he asked. 

"Not haunted," Potter corrected. 

"Not haunted, just ugly?" Draco inquired. 

"Yeah, just ugly," Potter laughed. 

"Reminds me of someone I know." 

"Oh who, yourself?" 

Draco mocked, "Why, Mr. Potter, I will have you know that I am very handsome. You would think you could see that with your glasses." 

"I should probably get new ones, you're probably a five in my book with my current prescription." 

"A five out of five. You mean," Draco noted. 

"Eh, sure," Potter shrugged, his nose touching Draco's throat. Draco had to repress a shiver along his spine as Potter's breath brushed against his collar. 

"We got four new members of the DA yesterday," Potter murmured. 

"How did you manage that?" Draco was impressed. 

"Daphne," Potter snorted. 

Draco asked, "Oh no, who are they?" 

"Mafalda Prewett, Bulstrode, Zabini and Daphne's little sister." 

"Merlin, you're going to have your hands full with that lot," Draco winced. 

Potter moved closer to Draco, wrapping the cloak tighter around themselves, "Daphne has kept them in line so far." 

"She keeps everyone in line," Draco agreed. Patting his pockets for a cigarette box. He pulled out a smoke, lighting the tip with his wand. 

"Muggle smokes?" Potter observed. 

Draco nodded as he puffed into the air, "Daphne got me into them." 

"Bullshit." 

"I'm serious. Daphne's practically a chimney," he explained. 

"No way, she's to posh for that," Potter argued, his eyes wrinkling in mirth. 

They lapped into comfortable conversation, huddled together in the cold. Draco exploded into tease whenever Potter tried to take a drag of his cigarette. His lungs weren't use to the heat, so he coughed violently behind laughter. He squinted his nose at the taste. 

The sunrise was average, but to Draco, still holding Potter's hand, he knew he would always remember this moment. 

 

Draco missed his old study partner. Theo was smart, in certain areas. In other areas, Theo was incredibly unhelpful. 

"Stop it," Theo growled, not looking up from his textbook. His study style was simply to re-read the chapters until something clicked. Nothing was clicking tonight. 

"I'm not doing anything," Draco defended. 

"Just ask her to compare notes when she gets here," Theo reasoned.

"I don't need her notes," he excused himself. 

Theo huffed, but didn't say anything, putting his hand in his hair as he focused on the text. If he started to pull his hair out, Draco wouldn't have been surprised. They had been at this for hours. Draco had been falling behind on his studies because of the late nights spent in Occlumency lessons. He needed help.

Daphne. Wonderful Daphne. Daphne, who takes legible notes. Daphne, who is capable of talking about subjects other than potions. Daphne, who has ignored Draco since she got into a fight with Pansy. 

"I never thought I would see you making that face thinking about a woman," Theo stated. 

"I'm not thinking about Daphne," Draco blurted. 

"I never said you were talking about Daphne." 

"…bleh." 

"I'm just going to assume you meant to say something clever." 

Draco laid his head on the table, ignoring Theo's snort at him. They sat across from each other on a small table along the wall of the common room. A table specifically for two. Books and loose notes piled between them. Their usual table, the best table, was taken by Astoria and her friends, who had the audacity to be enjoying themselves. 

"Oh look, your crush is here," Theo pointed to the entry way as Daphne walked in. She took a seat at the large table with her sister, taking out her homework. "I think she's taking out those notes you've been fantasying about." 

"How's that reading going? Good? Better get back to it then," Draco continued writing his essay. His essay that he had no one to proof read because Theo was only good at one subject. 

The words bled together on the page. Draco rubbed his eyes, he couldn't focus when he was this tired. Staying up all night with Potter to watch the sunrise was so very worth his lack of sleep, but his focus levels disagreed. He rested his heavy head on his fist prompt on the elbow. 

Why wasn't Potter responding to Severus's lessons? Draco himself had been taught by his Godfather, his response had been much quicker than the process Potter was making. Draco's eyes dropped in the weight of sleep. Potter was not only not making any progress, but he had been regressing lately. Why? Was Potter not responding because of the teaching style? He could keep up with Draco just weeks ago. Draco's head nestled in his elbow. 

How could he help? They couldn't keep regressing at this rate. Potter's mind needed protection. 

"Oh, shit." Draco sat up, his cheek wet. He looked around, looking for the apparent danger. Theo just smiled, "You're drooling." Draco wiped his face with the back of his hand. He stood up, he couldn't fall asleep. "Go ask Daphne for help so you can get some sleep," Theo ordered. 

Draco mumbled as he collected his notes. He walked across the common room to the large table where Daphne was working on the same essay. Daphne just raised her eyebrows at him, he hoped his smile was pathetic enough for her to grace him with her mind. She rolled her eyes, pushing out the empty chair next to her in silent permission. 

"You look like absolute shit," she greeted. 

"You look absolutely stunning, as always," Draco flattered. 

"Wow, you are desperate." 

"Theo is useless," he explained. 

"Let's see what you've manage to pull out of your ass." He handed her his essay draft. They worked with practiced ease that comes with experience. Draco realized how much he missed this, missed her. Missed laughing with her over homework. Missed talking with her about subjects he wouldn't ever think about. 

The hours continued as they finalized their essays. Astoria's friends filed to bed after saying good night. Only the three of them remained until Theo sheepishly took an empty seat. They tackled the atrocity that was Theo's homework together. Draco ignored when Theo suddenly got quiet as Blaise walked in with Bulstrode. For the last couple of weeks, Draco has noticed a lack of sneaking around from those two, but didn't want to say anything. The pair sat at the empty couch by the fireplace, they talked quietly between themselves. The common room was wonderfully quiet for once. The only other students were a couple of second years including Alfie, and Crabbe and Goyle who were playing a game of chess. 

Pansy burst through the silence with her shrill laughter. Pansy was clinging to the arm of a flattered Montague. Daphne instantly scowled at the addition. Draco tensed, there was a reason he had been ignoring both Daphne and Pansy for the last couple of weeks. Pansy new how to hit where it hurts. 

But Pansy didn't pay any mind to Draco or Daphne. Instead, she focused on Montague. Laughing loudly at whatever he said. Draco took note of her long hair that was loose down her back, carefully curled. She didn't have much in the way of breast, her personal complaints, but even Draco noticed how high they were on her chest. She made up for her lack of cleavage by her uniform, which was unbuttoned generously. Her skirt also showed several inches of upper thigh, amplified by her heels with no knee high socks. She was very out of uniform.

The group walked to the couch. Montague looked down at Blaise and Bulstrode on the couch with his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his lips. "Shoo, shoo," Pansy waved them away with her fingers. 

The group took over the sitting area as Blaise and Bulstrode moved to a table. They were loudly laughing, the girls giggling at the boy's teasing. Disgusting to watch. The silence didn't return after that. 

Draco clenched his jaw as the fake laughter continued. He should go to bed, but he still had homework to catch up on. The library was going to close soon. He focused on finishing his assignments quickly. 

"I hate that she lets him treat her like that," Daphne whispered as Pansy blushed at Montague's hand rising on her thigh. Draco kept his head down. Daphne slammed down her book at as Pansy squealed in deafening laughter. 

Draco finally managed to focus on his homework as the talk died to a whisper between Montague and Pansy. The only interruption was the occasional giggle from Pansy as Montague started nosing her neck. 

He corrected Theo's homework, who was barely paying attention. Eventually, he turned back to his own assignment. 

"Graham, don't-" Pansy's voice broke his concentration. 

"Come on, kitten, don't be such a tease." 

Draco didn't have the chance to turn around before Daphne was running to the couch, she shoved Montague off the couch with all of her might. "You keep your fucking hands off of h-" 

Pansy slapped her. 

Montague stood from the floor. "You bitch-" he yelled at Daphne, jumping over the couch. 

Draco stood, needing to break this fight before this got bloody. He wasn't the only one, Astoria dived past him. She grabbed two fist of Pansy's long hair, yanking her over the back of the couch. Pansy hit the floor with a painful thrash. 

He turned as Daphne yelled. Montague had her by the collar, shaking her. He let her go as Blaise tackled him to the ground, only getting a couple punches in before Montague gave one blistering punch across his jaw. Blaise was shoved off, but Montague just bore into him. 

His wand. Draco rushed to the table. Pushing the books, papers, and ink to the floor in his search. 

Theo started screaming, grabbing at Montague's arm, who just pushed him off. 

Pansy wrapped both of her arms around Astoria's knees, making her trip onto the floor. Daphne wanked Pansy off of her sister by her ankles. 

Where was his wand? 

Bulstrode gave one kick into Montague's stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Blaise scurried away on his hands and knees. Crabbe grabbed his by the torso, pulling him back. Montague stood, but instead of going for Blaise he settled his glare on Daphne. 

Daphne had Pansy by her hair, who was screaming at her.

Wand. Wand. He needed his wand. 

Montague grabbed Daphne's shoulder, turning her around. 

Draco broke into a run. Fuck his wand. 

Daphne's head snapped back as Montague knocked her with his fist. 

"Don't you fucking touch her. Don't you ever touch her-" Pansy thrashed against Montague, who stumbled back. Pansy kept shoving Montague back until he was against the wall, "You stay away from her." The room was silent. 

"Who the fuck-" 

Pansy slapped him across the face, breathing deep with adrenaline.

"Dry bitch," Montague walked away. He disappeared up the stars to the dorms. 

Pansy turned back to room. Draco stepped in between her and everyone else. He was so tired of fighting. 

Daphne moved around Draco, taking Pansy's hands in hers, "You don’t have to let him treat you like that." 

"Daphne, I don't need you to judge me," Pansy pulled away. 

"Wait, please. I'm not judging you. I'm worried about you. You don't talk to me anymore," Daphne begged, her voice wet. Pansy just shook her head. Draco stopped her retreating to the dorms with a gentle hand on her arm. "Let me help you." 

Pansy pulled away from them, walking to the dorms, "I need you to let me help myself." 

 

May disappeared as April approached. Students started to plan the small break to celebrate the beginning of spring. Anxiety curled in Draco stomach at returning home, but he pushed that aside to focus on his studies and Potter's continue education in Occlumency. His dreams were just getting worst. Potter had almost made it to the corridor in his dreams. His dreams that Draco suspected weren't just dreams, but he was grasping at straws for what else they could be. 

Severus was keeping him in the dark. Draco suspected that whatever information Severus was keeping from him, and Potter by proxy, wasn't due to his own judgment. Dumbledore was the one in charge. 

If Draco could just find out what Dumbledore was hiding, then he might have a breakthrough with Potter's lessons. This is how Draco had found himself in the library during his free period. 

He had used the excuse of needing to focus on his assignments to stop doing his Prefect rounds. Severus had not been pleased, but had eventually agreed when Draco purposely flunked a few assignments across all of his subjects. Draco had pulled every book on Occlumency and Legilimency from the library. When he had gone through those without much found, he had turn to texts that weren't allowed in Hogwarts. 

Severus was so tired he didn't recognize when some of his books from his lavatory went missing. 

The best place to hide books is a library. 

Draco took his favorite table under a window in the back, taking advantage of the unoccupied library due to the odd time of study. The thick leather books from Severus's personal collection had yet to be helpful. Draco was currently focusing on one particular, an in depth explanation of Dark Magic. 

He had to pull several other books for reference. Scribbling on his notes, trying to explain the text to himself. There was a headache settling at the base of his neck from the lack of sleep he had been getting. 

A particularly interesting footnote caught his eye. He frowned over the word, he doubted this was ever mention in his Defense Against the Dark Art classes. He sighed, realizing the chapter didn't mention his only promising lead again. He wrote _'Horcrux'_ in his notes circling several times before remembering a similar object described in other textbook. He shuffled through the books, trying to recall which book he had read. 

"Mr. Malfoy," Dobby suddenly appeared on the table. 

"Dobby!" Draco jumped backed in his chair, instantly grabbing for his wand in fear. 

Dobby grabbed the front of his robes, his large green eyes glossy. "Mr. Malfoy must help Harry Potter!" 

"Potter? What's happened?" but he couldn't get a word in over Dobby's distressed ranting. "Dobby-" he took Dobby's tiny shoulders gently in his hands "-what happened?" 

"Harry Potter says you must come quick! Umbridge as fou-" 

Draco broke into a run. 

He shoved past the large wooden double doors of the library, ignoring the yells of Mrs. Pince. 

His footsteps pounded on the hard bricks. His heart thumped in his ears. His lungs complained from the sudden activity. 

He couldn't do anything. 

He was useless. 

Daphne. 

A sob hit him in his turning gut as he yelled at other students to move. 

This was his fault. 

He heard the deafening blows, loud assaults against the very walls of the castle. He pushed his legs faster. 

Maybe she skipped this lesson. 

Maybe the Omen Fire couldn't tell her future for a reason. 

He skittled to a stop in the empty hall. Umbridge probably cleared the area of students, making sure no one could get away. If he looked over the corner he could see Umbridge braking the door down to the Room of Hidden Things. Bile tickled the back of his throat. Panic clawed at his back. He sobbed, buckling as he gripped his hair. 

He could only watch as his world fell apart. 

_He could only watch as a family was murdered._

_They couldn't understand what was happening. Suddenly the laws of nature didn't apply to the intruders in their home._

_They had been having dinner, before, probably having a normal night. Dinner. Kids. Sleep. Not knowing that this would be the night their home was violated. The night where their home had their blood dripping from the walls._

Someone running past him brought himself back. He jumped at her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flat against his chest as he backed to the wall. Praying that they weren't seen or heard as he laid a hand over her mouth. 

Astoria's face was wet. She knew what this meant. She thrashed against Draco. "Stop, stop it, please just listen," he hushed her. She gripped his wrist, breathing hard against his hand. "I'm going to let you go," his voice shook as he whispered in her ear, "and you're going to run to the library." She shook her head, he could feel her sobs against his chest. "That is where you've been this entire time, make sure no one sees you." He shoved her away, relieved when she just hurried towards the library. 

Draco shallowed as he watched her go. He centered himself, his role clear. 

Draco turned the corner, stepping into the role given to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for those who leave comments and kudos, they are always encouraging.  
> This is my first fandom work, let me know what you think :)  
> Find me @carpebellum on tumblr if you wanna talk there!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic Violence

He gripped the warming handle of the penknife, it’s weight heavy in the inner pocket of his robes. Draco stared out onto the bright empty ballroom. How many times had he walked though this hall? The place was the same, same walls, same furnishings, but his home had been gutted of any warmth. A warm hand rested on his shoulder, and his looked over to his mother's cool gaze. He was almost taller than her now. Her eyes were wide in concern, her lips in a tight line. Draco met her stare as she touched his face, forcing himself to endure the affection he knew he didn’t deserve. Her eyes narrowed; she had never seen her son look so cold.

He pulled away from his mother's concern when they heard the echo of hurried step on the marble.. He swallowed past the buzzing in his stomach as he recognized their guests. The Death Eaters and their families entered the ballroom through a pair of double doors facing the main hallway. Aunt Bellatrix lead the way, her black dress trailing behind her, a look of absolute glee on her face. She couldn’t wait to spill blood.

Draco looked away when he saw some of his peers. He hadn't expected for his sin to have a known audience. He studied the gardens that could been seen through the large windows that lined one wall. The massive hall of the manor was lit by the large, extensive chandeliers that lined the center of the high ceilings. The moonlight didn't reach the room, as the chandeliers showered everyone in a gentle light. The moon was full, bathing the gardens in an ethereal glow.

A hard pinch on his cheek forced his attention forward. His Aunt Bellatrix sneered in his face, her breath on him. "Go say 'Hi!' to your friends," she hissed with a grin from ear to ear.

Draco didn't pull away from the nails on his cheek, "I'm alright, but thank you for the suggestion."

Her eyes squinted at the iciness in his voice, but her grin didn't waiver. "Why… aren’t you a little shit?" she growled.

"Bella," Narcissa stepped forward.

With a loud, shrieking laugh his aunt shoved him away. He stepped back from the force, his back hitting the wall.

Bellatrix walked away to stand next to his father on the other side of the throne. His father wouldn't look Draco in the eyes.. 

He straighten his stance, his mother clutched his wrist tightly, as if trying to give him some of her courage by her touch. Draco didn't need courage, his path had been clearly laid out for him. He found his focus by slipping his hand over the weapon in his pocket. He found his calm in the knowledge of his path. His hand still shook around the knife.

The Malfoy family, as their reward for hosting their Lord, had the privilege of standing next to his throne. Their backs were to the farthest wall of the hall, candelabras on either side of their family. Lucius stood on the other side of grand wooden throne, leaning heavily on his cane. His robes were loose on his body, and he had lost a noticeable amount of weight.

When Draco was sure he had calmed down enough to face his jury, he turned to the large crowd. Mr. Nott had brought a tense looking Theo, whose face was as distant as Draco's heart. A large bruise was blooming across Theo's jaw, his father no longer trying to hide his abuse. Crabbe and Goyle stood with their respected families, not as somber has one would expect for them to look. Perhaps their parents hadn't told them what they would witness tonight in a feeble attempt to protect their sons.

Pansy met his eyes, standing stiffly next to her mother. Pansy's hair was styled in a bun at the base of her skull, and there was so much makeup on her face she could easily pass for twenty. Her waist was tightened in a dark purple dress, the color brought out her pale complexion. Her eyes were wide with fear, her neck red with force as she fought back her tears. 

The crowd hushed as a chill slipped down their spines. Draco's heart pounded in his chest. His rips burned with the force of swallowing his panic. He watched as a crowd parted for their Lord who was glowingly pale in his night black robes. His blood red eyes were proud as they glided over his followers, a human show of his pure power. Draco was sure that he was Death itself.

His Lord glided to his throne, gracefully taking the only seat in the room.

Draco gripped his knife until his knuckles ached.

"Bring them in," his Lord spoke to the room, his voice like a stream over smooth rocks.

Draco would have to push his mother out of the way.

No one can control death, and slicing someone's throat would kill anyone.

The Greengrass family entered through the side entrance. The parents tightly clinging to their daughters. Astoria was already crying, her head bowed into a pale blue handkerchief. Daphne had her head bowed, dressed in her signature blue robes.

The family stopped in front of their Lord. No one would look up at him. Rough hands shoved the family to stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder, but at two feet of distance. Everyone looked down. Daphne stood out in her colorful robes and her halo of blond hair that was curled down her shoulders.

"Step forward, my girl," their Lord ordered. Daphne stepped forward, her head down, her hands clasped delicately in front of her. She was the perfect sight of a young humble lady. Their Lord wasn't affected. "State your crimes." 

The tone of his voice made her flinch. She wrung her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned pale. "I-"

"Speak up, dear," their Lord spoke sweetly.

She cleared her throat, "I… have taken part in… in blasphemous behavior."

Their Lord tilted his head, his eyes narrowing, "Blasphemous behavior," he pursed his lips, "what a delicate way to word betrayal." He sentenced her to death with no trouble.

"My Lord, no-"

"Interrupt me again girl, and that will be your last breath."

Daphne froze at his voice, at the implications of his words.

"How do you explain yourself, my dear?" he asked, his voice strangely warm.

"I…" she stuttered, "I made a mistake, only one mistake."

"A mistake?"

"Yes," she sobbed, she was standing on glass that was cracking all around her. "Yes, my Lord, I made a mistake. A stupid, stupid, mistake." Tears of terror ran down her eyes. The brave girl that Draco knew was gone, crushed under the probability of her death. She stumbled over her words, unable to say anything clearly through her quivering chin. Her face was hot in color, wet from tears and snot. She was trembling.

The Dark Lord watched this trembling girl beg for her young life. He said nothing as Daphne worked herself in a panic at his silence. Her sobs scratched against the skulls of the crowd, echoed against the high ceilings. Draco's stomach lurched into his lungs, but he wouldn't allow himself to turn away. He owed her that.

_"Merlin, why the fuck did you bring me to this shithole?" Daphne asked, stepping through the shattered furniture along the wooden, dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack. She left footprints in the dust, like through snow. She grinned at him over her shoulder, leading the way even though she didn't know where Draco was taking her._

_"I thought you would fit in with the ambiance," he shot, flinching against a cobweb to his face._

_"Fuck you," she stated, "I'm way too posh for this shit." She looked around the filthy living room they had found themselves in inside the Shrieking Shack. "How did you know how to get in here?"_

_Draco dusted the webs from his face, glancing around the small room. "Potter," he answered. Furniture was overturned and broken. Daphne was looking out of the window, which looked over the Great Lake. She went through her routine of lighting a cigarette with the zippo lighter Draco had gotten her. She blew smoke from her lips, the smoke making her seem like a ghost in the moonlight._

_"If you keep looking at me like that I'm going to think I've turned you to girls," she teased. Draco tried to laugh, he tried to take some of the burden away from her, but he forced his laughter too much. He was standing in the doorframe of the entrance of the room. Daphne was standing so far from him. She gave him a sympathetic glance. She took out a smoke, a flicker of light briefly crossed her face as she opened the pale blue zippo lighter._

_She held out the lit cigarette to him, taking a drag of her own smoke, but she didn't step away from the widow. She leaned against the wall next to the window, still holding the smoke out to him. He crossed the room to her, meeting her where she was. He brought the smoke into his lungs with a deep inhale, relaxing into the routine._

_"So… are we going to talk about what we are going to do?" she asked._

With a hand raised, their Lord silenced Daphne. "So…" he started, "you state that you made a simple mistake."

Daphne nodded, unable to make words. Any words she had prepared had left her in her terror. 

"Perhaps you were pressured to be liked by your peers? Or perhaps you were swept away by the romance of sneaking around school grounds. Or perhaps you just truly did not understand the weight of your actions," he thought of random excuses. Daphne nodded, her head still lowered. "I'm inclined to believe you, my dear. Believe that this was just one little mishap."

Daphne's mother hit the floor on her knees in relief. Daphne's eyes widened, she looked up, hope so clear on her face. "Thank you," she whispered, tears running down her face. Her shoulders slacked as the tension left her body. 

"But…" their Lord's voice raised slightly, "it was more than one mistake, wasn't it?"

"My Lord," the air left her body, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You made multiple decisions to join the enemy. To help the enemy-"

"No," Daphne shook her head, "no, no, no, no, no…"

"To betray your family-"

"I didn't mean-"

"To betray your blood-"

"Please, please no," she begged, her face twisted.

"To betray me."

His declaration sent a harsh sob through Daphne. She hid her face in her hands, her cries loud and unashamed in their fear. For the first time, true pure terror shot down her. Her knees trembled against the force of her impending death. 

Their Lord's voice rang against Draco's ears. His head was underwater. He couldn't hear Daphne begging for her life. He couldn't hear his own heartbeat, but he could feel the pounding against his lungs, stopping his breath. His skin buzzed with the thick terror that laced the air.

Their Lord let Daphne beg. He let her gravel at his feet while he enjoyed the view.

"But these mistakes aren't just a reflection of you." The hall stilled in the silence heavy with the meaning of their Lord's words. Their Lord titled his head, as if asking about the weather. "This is a reflection of the people who raise you on these ideals."

The blood rushed to Draco's head, he couldn't hear his own thoughts. He couldn't put together what his Lord's words meant. Daphne could, and her eyes glazed over as her mind worked through what those words meant.

Mr. and Ms. Greengrass were shoved to the ground by harsh hands. Alecto Carrow snatched Astoria by her long dark hair, preventing her from reaching her parents, as she screamed for them, arms outstretched. Carrow pulled Astoria's hair to ensure she would have no choice but to witness her parent's death.

Mr. Greengrass stared at the floor, his eyes wide and his breath shallow. Daphne's mother started to bawl into her handkerchief. Her husband reached other, taking her hand. Their eyes met, Draco felt conflicted at witnessing such a tender moment between them. They were willing to lay down their lives for their child, finding tranquility in the knowledge of their child living. 

Daphne was standing on glass. She had a knife to her throat. Her family had chains at their feet and they were about to be pushed into deep water. She made the only decision she could.

"Perhaps," her voice was blisteringly loud as she started to mock the Dark Lord, her voice high and shrill. The room froze. "Perhaps this, perhaps that," Daphne spoke from deep in her chest, practically growling. "Perhaps you have no fucking idea of how disgusting you are. Perhaps you're too stupid to see what is right in front of you. Maybe I was 'swept away by the romance,' what sort of bullshit is that?! I knew exactly what I was doing. I only wish I could have done more."

Draco closed his eyes. His hand tightening around the knife in his pocket. This was the only way. He broke away from his mother's side. If he was going to do this, he would have to do it now. 

_"So… are we going to talk about what we are going to do?" she asked._

_Draco sighed from deep in his chest. He kept smoking so he didn't have to meet her eyes. He was a coward. He had planted this seed in her, now he couldn't handle the fucking consequences. The cigarette didn't stop the bad taste that laced his mouth. "What do you want to do?" he croaked._

_"What do I want?" Daphne repeated. Smoke gathered around her head. The moonlight creased her cheek traced with tears. "I don't want to fucking d-" a shaking gasped stopped her from finishing her sentence. "Oh, oh fuck," she choked. Her chin quivered while she inhaled, her tips tight around the end of her smoke._

_"Daphne…" he whispered._

_"No, I… don't," her voice broke._

_Draco didn't say anything after. She didn't want his comfort. What did she want from him? He could only do what he brought her here for, but he couldn't. He wasn't that man. He wasn't his father._

_"We could go to Dumbledore," he begged._

_Daphne laughed though her tears, "And what? Have my parents take my place? Have Astoria be your new wife? This situation is fucked if I'm here or there."_

_"We… we could…"_

_"What? What could we do?" she snapped. "We could. We could. We could." Draco had never heard that tone of voice from her. She was mocking him. "We could do shit. There is nothing we could, or can, do. I'm fucked, Draco. And fuck you for pretending otherwise!"_

_His hands were shaking. He was being pulled underwater. He was drowning. His face was wet. This was all his fault._

_"Stop it!" Daphne's voice shook. "I can't do this. I can't take care of you."_

_Draco's head made a dull thud as he hit the back of his head against the wall. He knew what she needed from him. He swallowed past his tears that threatened to spill. His chest was splitting into pieces. He was shattering. He would just have to sew the pieces back together with his own bleeding hands. "You're right." He owed her this. "What do you want to do?" he turned his head, meeting her gaze._

_"I want to fight," she had fire burning in her soul. "I want to win this war, but… I don't think that's my place anymore."_

_He blinked. "What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to put together the pieces when she already knew the whole puzzle picture._

_"You could get close to him," her gaze bore into him. He could only furrow his brow in confusion. This isn't what he had brought her here for. She was three steps ahead of him, turning around to wait for him to meet her where she was. Daphne moved so she was standing in front of him. She cast a large shadow across the broken, dusty room in the moonlight. Her eyes were glowing so blue in the pale light. "You know people. You know how to get under their skin. How to make them trust you."_

_Draco's mouth was filled with chalk. He couldn't say anything. Where was she going with this?_

_"You can make him trust you," she begged, "you can make him trust you, then you can win." She took hold of his shoulders, her grip tight, almost bruising. "You can win, for me, for Harry." He would step back, but he was up against a wall. Her intensity burned his blood. "Get close to him. Make him trust you. Kill me to do it."_

"I hate you!" Daphne screeched at their Lord. Draco took out his knife. He laced his hand into her long hair, pulling her head back so that she was looking to the sky.

Screaming.

Draco dug the knife into the side of her neck. Her blood was so warm, almost hot has he pulled the knife out. He barely registered the clink as the knife hit the marble floor. Draco held Daphne's wrist so she wouldn't cover the deep slice in her neck.

He buried his chin into her shoulder. He could smell her hair. The blood dripped over his cheek, down his chest and onto the floor.

She cried softly as she registered what was happening to her. Small gasps filling her lungs with air as she took her last breaths. He held her up so that she wouldn't hit the floor, her blood dampening her hair. "Why…" she asked. "Why would you do this?" Her voice was so quiet. 

"Shh…shh…" he whispered into her hair.

She kicked at his shins. She slipped on her own blood. Her nails clawed at his arms, but the warm blood that covered them both made her fingers slippery.

Daphne's fight slowly dripped away from her. Her hands grew weak. Her back was wet from her blood that was tight against his chest. Daphne was out of breath. Astoria's screams burned Draco's ears. He held her tight against him. Tears dampened Draco's cheek from Daphne's eyes. He felt her last beats of her heart against his chest, but his own heart was tightly sealed away.

He took on her entire weight as she couldn't support herself. Draco wrapped one arm around her waist, gently lowering her to the ground as her eyes became unseeing.

Silence.

_"No," his voice broke as he shoved Daphne away, but she just clung to Draco by the lining of his cloak. "You can't ask me to do that. How can you ask me to… to kill you?"_

_"He's going to kill me anyway. I want to have a say in how," Daphne shoved him against the wall. "I- I've earned this. I've earned the right to fucking decide if my death will be fucking useful or not."_

_"By using me to do the dirty part!" Draco pushed her back._

_When Daphne pushed the hair that had fallen into her face, her eyes were wide in fury and hot with tears. "And what?" she screamed, "Dying is the easy part? You selfish, disgusting prick!"_

_"How can you just give up?" he yelled back. He was vibrating in his anger. He was shaking. No. No. No. He dropped his cigarette, running his hands over his face realizing that his face was wet from his own tears. He had to calm himself, but fire was snapping up his spine._

_"How can you say that?" Daphne stepped into his space. She looked up at him. Her eyes wide in fear, tears spilling. "Do you know how hard this is for me? The least you can do is rise to the fucking occasion."_

_"No, ask someone else. I'm not going to kill my best friend," he turned away, about to walk out the door when Daphne's arms wrapped around his chess from behind._

_"Please," she begged. Her forehead was on his shoulder blade, her arms tight around him. He tried to pull her off of him. He dug his nails into her arms, his legs going limp. She only branded him with a harsh whisper into his ear, "You're the reason why I joined in the first place."_

_"No…" he whispered. She expected too much. His knees hit the floor._

_"Let go." She was coiling around him, squeezing the essence from his lungs. Claws tore their way down his back._

_"I can't." She wouldn't let go. His blood was bubbling out of his own skin._

_"I'm not-" his sob was ripped from his lungs. She could be so cruel. This was so cruel._

_She was all around him. Her hair smelling of smoke as he collapsed to the floor. She held him as he fought against her. His forehead was pressed into the hard wood. He clung at his hair, his hands trembling. He wanted to pull the floorboards up to feel the splinters in his hands. He wanted to dig himself into the earth underneath to rot. His soul was ripped into pieces._

_How many people? How many people will lay themselves on him for him to carry? How much can he rest on his own shoulders before his bones compact under the pressure? His heart was going to burst._

_The wood broke into his fingernails as he dug himself into the pain. She was going to die. Either she was going to die or her family would take her place._

_If he killed her. If he crimsoned the floor with her blood, he could be birthed into their Lord's favor. With that trust, that power, Draco could win this war. He could coil himself into the Dark Lord's heart, and crush the life from his very soul._

_Daphne loosened her grip, but still rested against him. They were both beyond crying. He was so heavy. His eyes dropped as he sat up, resting on Daphne who supported him. His fingers were bleeding from where he scratched at the floor with so much force he broke into his nails. His throat hurt, had he been screaming?_

_"If we're going to do this, you can’t remember me," he croaked. His hand shot out to take hers that was still resting against his chest when she jerked away. He held her tightly. "That's why I had brought you here. When you face him, you can't have any memories of me."_

_She wouldn't have any memories of him. She wouldn't remember this conversation. She wouldn't remember her bravery. He was asking her to give up her memory of rebelling. She would be giving up the knowledge that her death changed this war. That her death mattered._

_Draco couldn't face her as he told her this. He let her go as she curled into a ball. He kept his back to her as she cried. He was a coward._

_He stood when he felt her rise behind him. Draco couldn't turn to face her. Daphne slipped something smooth and rectangular into his hand. He looked down. The zippo lighter he had gotten her for their betrothal. Better she didn't have anything to remember him by._

_"Just do it," Daphne spoke._

_Draco lifted his wand, seeing recognition in Daphne's eyes for the last time._

Aunt Bellatrix's shrill laughter knifed through the thick silence. "He just fucking killed her!" 

He stood, looking toward his Lord with eyes as crimson as the blood pooling at his feet. The Dark Lord stood, walking over to the bloodbath.

"Shit, Lucius, did you know that your son has bigger balls than you?" Bellatrix mocked.

Draco held his Lord's gaze, bowing slightly as his Lord walked closer. 

"I haven’t even killed someone with my bare hands, perhaps he just has the thirst for it. You know?" Bellatrix continued.

Draco searched his knife, needing to focus on a task. The knife Potter had given him. The weapon was covered in blood, and rested in the pool of raw still growing from Daphne's seeping neck. He reached out to pick up the knife, only to blink at the sight of his bloodied hand. His heart tightened. His breath shallow. His spine tingled in danger.

He picked up the murder weapon, which was warm against his skin. He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a dirty handkerchief. He sighed, his front was soaked to his skin. There no way he could clean his knife.

His Lord handed him a pure white cloth. Draco looked up, meeting red eyes. "Thank you my Lord," he took the surprisingly soft handkerchief, cleaning the blood off of the blade.

His Lord walked over the corpse in one large step, seeming not to mind the blood on the end of his cloak. He studied the pale girl, as if only now seeing her in death. Draco looked at Daphne's face for the last time. Crimson ribbons braided themselves into the halo of blood hair. Her eyes bright in their blue depths, but lacking without a soul behind them. Their Lord poked her cheek with his toe, gently pushing her face so that Daphne's dead eyes were looking right into Draco's. "It's a shame… you two would have made a handsome couple," his Lord spoke to Draco for the first time tonight.

"She's nothing much in looks considering her personality," Draco humored dryly.

His Lord looked up from his place bent over the corpse. A grin turning into laughter on cruel lips. Laughter echoed from the crowd as their Lord laughed gleefully at Draco's comment. A pale hand laid on Draco's shoulder, guiding him to step over Daphne's body. "Let us talk in private, young Malfoy," his Lord led him to the side exit.

Draco wouldn’t let himself look anywhere but his Lord's back. He couldn't handle seeing disappointment or pride on his parent's faces.

The side exit opened into the Manor's extensive gardens. Draco let himself pause, breathing in the cool night air that only smelt of copper from his body soaked in blood. The gardens were glowing in the pale light of the moon. Blood looks black in the moonlight.

"Walk with me Malfoy," his Lord ordered, looking up at the full moon. He was almost as pale as the moon. Draco took pace with his Lord, walking slightly behind him, as manners commanded. They continued through the smooth path. His Lord slowed his step, Draco was careful not to walk alongside him. They left the light from the chandeliers of the ballroom, now completely bathed in moonlight. "Malfoy-" his Lord motioned for Draco to walk in pace with him "-no need for such formalities."

Draco shivered in the chill as he walked alongside the greatest dark wizard of the century. He shoved his hands in his pockets to warm them. Draco could feel Potter's penknife in one pocket, and Daphne's pale blue zippo lighter in the other. They continued walking, moving past the flowerbeds and to the large fountains of the outer garden.

"Do you prefer Malfoy, or your forename?" his Lord broke the night silence.

Draco blinked, "Um… Draco. If you don't mind the informality, my Lord."

"Draco it is, then." His Lord clasped his hands behind him, observing the freckled stars above them.

"My Lord…" Draco began. His Lord looked down at him with slightly raised eyebrows, still walking leisurely. "I'm sorry," he made his voice break.

"What are you apologizing for, Draco?" his Lord used his first name in conversation.

He swallowed despite his dry mouth. "Daphne Greengrass. She was my betrothed, I should have seen the signs I'm sure were there."

His Lord hummed, turning back to the sky. "Did you know her well?"

"No sir. I asked her on a date for Valentine's Day, I thought she would appreciate the gesture, but otherwise we didn't talk outside of classes," he explained.

"But you two did grow up together, yes?"

"Yes, I've known her since we were children."

"And now you're covered in her blood," his Lord observed as if talking about simple gossip.

"I… I feel responsible for her betrayal," he admitted, looking down at his feet.

A cold hand on his shoulder made him look up, "Draco, you are young. I do not expect you to carry such a burden."

The shock on Draco's face was genuine.

His Lord sighed, "The Greengrass girl was responsible for her own actions. I'm to assume that if you had any notations of betrayal you would have found some way to alert me?"

"Of course."

"Then you have nothing to prove, but your enthusiasm is noted," his Lord forgave.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"How are your studies?" the Dark Lord didn't react to Draco's blessing.

The pair walked their way around the manor's grounds. Draco discussed his classes. The Dark Lord kept up with the conversation with genuine attention. Draco found himself talking more with his Lord than he had with anyone since his return to the manor. The Dark Lord asked him about Quidditch. He even admitted to never having played the sport himself.

His Lord seemed pleased at the effect Umbridge was having on Hogwarts. With a confession that he wanted to teach at Hogwarts himself, the Dark Lord offered to make up for the lack of education Draco was suffering. Draco accepted in a rush.

"Let us get you back to the manor. I'm sure it's past your bedtime," the Dark Lord turned down a path that led directly to the manor. Draco stumbled after him. Their conversation had felt so fast, yet Draco's feet ached with the long walk. Should he mention the Greengrass family? Was he in a place to sway his Lord's mind? He owned Daphne, he would protect Astoria, but how? "You're suddenly quiet," his Lord called out.

"Um…" Draco hurried after his Lord, "no, it's not that…"

"What is it then?" his Lord asked with a voice that could easily belong to a kind person.

"The Greengrass family, what is going to happen to them?" Draco asked what was truly bothering him. He had to see what would happen when he told the truth.

"I have yet to decide the fate of the Greengrass family. I'll have to investigate their loyalty," his Lord explained.

Investigate their loyalty. Torture. Astoria. Astoria knew Draco had protected her from the same fate as her sister. He couldn't let her be under scrutiny. He doubt Astoria would protect the man who had just sliced her sister's throat.

"If-" he stopped himself. He would have to be more careful with how casual he was with the Dark Lord. One mistake could offend his Lord. A deadly mistake.

"If what?" his Lord prodded.

Shit. "My apologies, I seemed to have forgotten my manners." Draco excused.

"I thought we had no need for such formalities, Draco."

Draco was starting to understand just how manipulative the Dark Lord was. No need for formalities one moment. Bathing in blood the next. The Dark Lord walked the line of confidant and executioner. Draco had to gain his trust.

"May I make a suggestion?" Draco toed the line while giving his Lord the power.

The Dark Lord chuckled, "Of course."

Of course. As if making a suggestion at the wrong time wouldn't have your blood on the floor. "Thank you sir," Draco praised, "the Greengrass family has shown no signs on treachery themselves. I was wondering if perhaps my betrothal to Daphne could continue to her sister."

"Interesting… why would you want the sister of a traitor?" his Lord investigated.

"Honestly?" Draco bought himself a few precious seconds. "Astoria is young. I was thinking that she could be saved from her sister's influence. Now that her sister can no long have an effect on her."

"Blood is blood," his Lord noted in thought. "Draco…" His stomach plummeted as his Lord studied him under his red eyes. His heart rate sped up, begging him to run. Draco held his Lord's gaze, kept his face and mind neutral. Comfortable. Trusting. "Is this your way of making amends?"

Amends? Amends for what? "You see right through me, my Lord," Draco played along as he scrambled to put the pieces together.

"I see, there is no reason for that. I've told you, you are not responsible for the actions Daphne Greengrass," his Lord explained.

The information snapped into place with startling clarity. "Of course," he agreed.

"But if you feel this strongly about giving Ms. Greengrass a guiding hand, I'm sure your betrothal could be arranged," the Dark Lord allowed.

The tension in Draco's stomach only tightened. Was the Dark Lord only acting out of concern for Draco's feelings? That was a dangerous idea to flirt with. "I do sir," Draco pushed past the warning in his conscience. He had already killed one Greengrass sister, her blood still drying on his hands, did he really have to drag another into this battle with him? Astoria knew too much, he couldn't risk his life.

"Very well, we'll announce the happy arrangement when we get back," his Lord clarified. Just like that? Draco makes one suggestion and suddenly the Dark Lord would follow through? Why? Was Draco already so easily allowed into the Lord's favor? Why talk to him in private? Why give Draco the first thing he asks for?

He was being tested.

"My Lord," he started. He had to pass, he had to gain his Lord's favor. The manor loomed in front of them, casting long shadows. "About my father…" The Dark Lord steadied him with a heavy gaze. Draco's chest was being coiled by anxiety. "I'm not sure of his mission… but I know that he's disappointing you. I won't. I promise."

A hand laid on his shoulder. He held the crimson eyes of the Dark Lord, "You will have your time. Your time to prove yourself."

"Thank you." Did he pass? What did he just agree to?

"My Lord?" a familiar voice spoke from the shadows.

"Ah, Severus, how lovely for you to join us," their Lord greeted Draco's godfather. Severus stepped into the light. His eyes wide as he took in Draco's appearance. The blood on him. The sight of him in the blood of his first kill. "We were just about to return." The Dark Lord walked by Severus casually.

"My Lord, perhaps Draco should go up to his room. It is running late," Severus suggested. Draco couldn't see Severus's face as he lowered his expression to the grown, a shadow casting over his face.

"Ah yes, you have had an eventful evening," their Lord excused Draco. "Go, get some rest."

Draco bowed to their Lord. He kept his gaze down as he walked past his godfather. He walked around the manor, not wanting to face his peers. The flowerbeds lining the manor had closed pedals in the night.

He turned a corner. The back entrance was opened, harsh yellow light spilling onto the path. Draco's stomach punched into his throat as he recognized the bud of a lit cigarette.

Daphne, glowing with her long blond hair as smoke billowed above her head.

He blinked. A gasp slicing into him.

"Who's there?" a harsh male voice growled.

Draco swallowed, the outline of Daphne melted away to revealed the large body of a man smoking in the light of the open door. "It's Malfoy," he called out with a steady voice. He stepped into the light, finally able to see the face of the man. 

He was large, with broad shoulders and muscular arms that could be seen even with the long sleeve of his shirt. Beating eyes met his, an animalistic growl showed yellowed, sharp teeth that twisted into a smile. "Well, well, isn't it the residential murder," a low, gravelly voice greeted before taking a drag of his smoke.

Draco smiled at his name, the man was complimenting him. He followed the smoke billow from the man's lips.

"Want one?" the man offered him a cigarette between two large fingers with long yellowed nails sharpened into a claw like shape.

Draco took the smoke. He leaned into the flame provided by a lighter from the man's pocket. Inhaling deeply as the cigarette was lit.

"Well look at that, you're a natural," the man further complemented. "You've done this before."

"Horrible habit," Draco shrugged off. He took in a deep inhale, blowing the smoke into the air.

"The name's Greyback," Draco took the hand offered to him. Greyback didn't seem to mind the blood on Draco's hand. 

"Pleasure."

"It's nice to see a wizard finally get his hands dirty, usually they leave that part of the job to me," Greyback admitted.

"But that's the best part," something twisted in Draco joked dryly.

Greyback steadied him with a heavy gaze, sizing him for his words. Draco just continued to smoke. Greyback gave him a knowing smile as he seemed to have found whatever comradery he thought was in Draco. "How would you know, you probably haven't even been in a fist fight."

Draco thought back to him pelting Finnigan with his own fist. "I have," he defended.

"What? Someone talked shit about daddy?" Greyback taunted.

Draco let the offense roll off of him, not really giving a shit what people thought of his father right now. "I'm just a shithead," he joked to Greyback's huff of laughter.

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Yeah, I've gotten my nose broken twice. Not including Quidditch," Draco explained.

Greyback barked, "Who the fuck did you piss off enough to get your nose broken?"

Weasley two months ago and Granger in third year. Draco didn't answer, but just shrugged as he leaned against the brick of the manor. Greyback paced as he smoked, the conversation flowing easily between them.

"If you want I could show you how to not get your nose broken sometime," Greyback offered when Draco was almost finished with his smoke.

"Not getting my nose broken seems like something I should work towards," Draco agreed, "how long are you here for?"

Greyback's eyebrows tightened in thought, smoke filing to the air. "My pack and I are heading out soon, I think I'll be back for summer."

Pack. Draco didn't let his face show any reflection of this information. "I'll be here, don't be a stranger," Draco put out his finished smoke.

"Malfoy," Draco stopped, he turned back to Greyback.

The man was suddenly much closer. Draco stepped into the cold brick along his back. The need to run buzzed at the base of his skull, but he stayed.

Greyback rested his elbow on the wall beside Draco's head, leering at him.

His wand, where was Draco's wand?

Greyback reached at to touch Draco's chin.

He had left his wand in his room to corner himself into killing Daphne with his hands.

A tongue licked his cheek, nails along his neck.

Greyback pulled back, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he tasted the blood Draco had spilt.

"Did you know that terror has a certain taste?" Greyback pushed himself off of the wall. "You'll be happy to know that she was fucking petrified when you sliced her throat."

Draco wiped his check with the back of his hand. Fury licking up his spine. His teeth bared with the violation. "Yeah no shit," he snapped as he lashed out. He went to leave, to hurry to the door.

A hand on his bicep stopped him. Greyback handed him two cigarettes with a wink. "Good luck with the contraband." 

Draco entered the manor making sure to put the two smokes into his back pocket. He was quick to hurry through the hall and up the stairs onto the second story. No one was in the halls, the meeting was still going underway.

Draco entered his room, kicking his door shut. He leaned against the back of the wooden door frame. His back slid against the wood as he let his feet slide out from under him.

He looked down at his hands dipped in crimson. Dipped in the blood of his friend he had killed.

There was a sense to expect his panic to finally boil to the surface of his skin. For the detachment that he had slipped himself into when he stole Daphne's memories to strip away.

The burning sensation of panic didn't coil around him.

He was just cold.

The blood dried and darkened on his body. Crusting over his skin as a constant reminder of his deed.

He gathered the items in his pockets, putting them in his hands. He turned on the lavatory light, the harsh white light making him wince. Draco dropped into the sink the; two cigarettes, the cleaned knife, the bloody handkerchief, and Daphne's zippo lighter.

His hands were so red against the white of the sink. Draco looked himself in the mirror. There was blood on his cheek, his neck, down to his chest and hands.

Draco turned away from the mirror.

He also took his wand with him into the shower. He wouldn't be without his lifeline again.

The blood washed away so easily in the shower. Draco turned the water as hot as would be allowed. His skin begged otherwise, but he let the water turn his skin red in protest as he soaked in the pain. The blood dripped down his body, turning the bottom of the bathtub pink then clear. Draco scrubbed his hair, his face, his body.

After he had toweled off and dressed, he opened the window in his room. The widow that overlooked rows of flowerbeds from the gardens. A giving breeze cooled Draco's too scrubbed skin as he sat on the cushioned window seat. Draco played with the cigarette in his fingers, a zippo lighter in his other hand. A tray with a tea set was laid on the desk in the corner of the room. Draco supposed one of the House Elves left the snack. The tea had long since grew cold with lack of attention.

Draco leaned against the wall. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, looking out to the cool garden. He was waiting for the shock to disappear, but he was just left with a shell of himself.

Someone opening the door made his eyes opened. His wand raised as Severus entered his room.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Draco cooled as Severus shut the door behind him. He instantly regraded his words as he took in his godfather's appearance. Severus's eyes were lined in red, as if he had been crying. He eyes were so full of sympathy Draco's stomach turned. Draco brought his knees to his chest, looking away from the grim sight of his godfather and to the gardens.

Severus dragged the desk chair to the widow. He settled across from Draco, but didn't say anything, he just looked down at his hands.

"It's not like you could have done something, so spare your pity," Draco defended himself from Severus's silence.

The silence continued. Draco's skin prickled uncomfortably at Severus's presence. Draco busied himself by walking to the tray on the desk. He warmed the tea, making Severus a cup. When Draco handed Severus his tea, he was shaking.

Draco sat back down on the window seat. He ran the palms of his hands on his thighs. Eventually, he gave in, lighting the cigarette with a pale blue zippo lighter. Severus didn't look up from his untouched tea. Guilt was weighting so heavy on his shoulders. Draco was shit at comforting people, so he didn't try to bridge the gap between his own known detachment and Severus's shocked sorrow.

He finished his smoke too quickly. He thought of using his last one, but he wanted to save that for when things got truly fucked. He knew things would get worse still.

He was lucky enough to have just flicked the bud out of the open window when the door slammed opened.

Draco held up his wand. Severus dropped his tea onto the carpet as he jumped out of his chair.

Draco had never seen his mother so fiery in her anger.

Lucius hurried after his wife, leaning heavily on his cane. He shut the door behind him as Narcisa steadied Draco with a glare full of furious tears.

"You disgusting-" she growled at Draco. Lucius grabbed Narcisa's arm as she stalked to Draco. Narcisa shoved Lucius away, who hit the floor as he lost his balance, his cane snapping away from under him.

Severus hurried to help his friend, leaving Draco by the window. Draco knew what was going to happened as his mother ran herself into Draco. He had already accepted this outcome.

"HOW?" his mother beaded her fist into his chest. "How could you?!" she shoved him into the wall. Her voice echoed with the pain that tore into her soul.

"Narcisa, leave him alo-" his father stood on shaking legs.

His mother turned to her husband, screaming at him, "Don’t you dare! You're the reason why our son just sliced a girl's throat in our home!"

She turned back to glare at Draco, her words doing lasting damage. "I can't even recognize you," she hissed.

His parents broke into a fight. They yelled at each other in tones Draco had never heard from either of the lips. Narcissa pointed at Draco, forcing Lucius to face what he had brought into their home.

He didn't feel anything as he watched his parents scream at each other. He wasn't able to feel anything at all. He did know, without uncertainty, that his parents were too close to the Dark Lord. If Draco wanted to gain his Lord's favor, then his own parents would have to believe that he was capable in his cruelty. Draco would have to push them away.

They were vulnerable now. Shocked in the sight of their own son spilling blood of his friend.

"I did what was needed," he spoke for the first time. His parents turned to him, confusion on his mother's face, concern of his father's. "I did what was needed to serve our Lord best, who cares if a little blood was lost?"

The slap blistered his cheek. His mother's wedding ring leaving a scratch where she had hit him with the back of her hand. "You may sleep in his bed," she snarled as she stepped into Draco's space. "You may wear his clothes, have his face, his voice, but you are not my son. You are a stranger in my home, and to me." With that, his mother turned her back on her son.

His father didn’t look at him as he followed his wife out.

Severus stepped out from the shadows. With a wave of his wand, he cleaned the spilled tea and the over-turned chair. He walked to where Draco to was standing, healing the cut on his cheek, but unable to heal the wounds in Draco's heart. "I can sta-"

"Just go," Draco interrupted.

Draco laid in his bed after everyone had left. Finally realizing that he was truly alone in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Comments and kudos are always loved!  
> Beta'd by erwintellsdadjokes at tumblr   
> Find me at carpebellum on tumblr.


	17. Chapter 17

Narcisa released Draco's hand as soon as his feet hit the soft grass. He reached out to steady his father with a firm hand on his arm. Lucius flinched out of Draco's grasp. Draco kept his face neutral as he followed his family up the gravel path. Lucius wasn't leaning so heavily on his knee. Draco supposed his father had taken a potion for the pain so that he could appear to be almost regal. 

Trees lined the wide path up to the Greengrass manor, providing shade for the many people walking up to the large estate. All dressed in black. 

The air was pleasantly warm. The sky was bright blue, not a cloud to be seen. A perfect day for a funeral.

The official story was that Daphne drowned in the pound of the estate. Draco didn't know how they managed to convince the Ministry of a death without a body to prove the source. 

"Nott," Lucius greeted. 

Mr. Nott took his step to walk alongside Lucius. He didn't bother to address Narcissa as they walked. Theo kept his eyes casted downwards, but he started to walk alongside Draco. Draco felt the tension from Theo, who wouldn't speak to him. Draco was too much of a coward to bridge the gap between them now. He wondered if that was the first time Theo had seen someone die. The sounds of the heads of their families accompanied the many footsteps up the hill. 

The manor was smaller than the Malfoy's, white brick with large windows. A forest edged along the sides and back of the estate. The perfectly monitored lawn seemed to be struggling for control against the lush trees that crested the ends of the grass. Draco could see a happy family living here, raising their two, strong willed daughters here. They would have plenty of room to grow, to run and play in the large yard. He could perfectly picture Daphne leaning out of the window to have a cigarette. 

"Malfoy," a hand steadied Draco by his shoulder. 

Draco swallowed the tears that were threating to spill. Blaise's eyes were tight in concern. Draco had stopped walking, his family and the Notts ahead of them by now. This provided a brief moment of privacy between him and Blaise. "I'm sorry," Blaise squeezed his shoulder. Draco's chest tightened, his stomach lurched into his throat. 

He didn't deserve comfort. He deserved to be burned at the stake. 

If he showed one flicker of how he truly felt, he would be the next child to die too soon. If he showed how he felt, Potter would be alone in his war to only fight from the outside in. If he gave away how his heart was bleeding onto the floor, Daphne's death would stand for nothing. He would not let any of that happen. 

Through a force he didn't know he was capable of, the grief he felt vanished into vapor. He was left with a cold shell of himself he had to carve out with his own pure will. 

Zabini's eyes tightened as he watched Draco step out of himself. Draco's expression turned into stone. His back straightened with the confidence of someone who shook hands with grief often. His voice was cold, "I appreciate your concern, Zabini." He walked away from the only kindness offered to him in so long. 

The Greengrass manor loomed over him, cursing him for daring to walk through her halls when he had just ripped a life from her walls. He could feel Daphne in every inch of her home when he took his place beside his family. No one mentioned or noticed his absence. 

The Greengrass's greeted their guest in the foyer. The guest slowed in line to be greeted by the parents of the dead. To give their useless condolences to people who were experiencing the most painful sort of grief. Daphne's parent's wore all back. Her mother's hair was perfectly immaculate in the twisted bun at the base of her neck. She looked so much like the daughter. With a cigarette in her hand and in pale blue robes, Draco could have pretended that Daphne lived to adulthood. What would she have been like as a woman and not just a girl? Would the upcoming war have twisted her into someone cruel? Would she have learned to fight with more than just her words? Would she have torn her soul apart to win, to see the end, to live? 

Draco didn't have those answers. He didn't have any answers. 

He wished he could honestly give Daphne's parents his sympathy without splitting at the seams with his own grief. He wished he could give them the mercy of not forcing them to face their daughter's executioner, her murder, at her own funeral. 

He didn't have that power. He didn’t have the authority to decide who was granted mercy and who was left bleeding on the floor, who lives and who dies. Whose bodies were left to rest and whose final resting place was twisted into a foul tool. His parents greeted the hoist first. The tension between them straightened their spines and stoned their expressions. Draco thanked whatever god was looking down on him that Astoria wasn't there to face her sister's executioner. 

"Our greatest sympathy for your tragic lost," Lucius shook Mr. Greengrass's hand. The father in mourning just steadied him with a heavy stare. 

"Our daughter was a joy to all," Mrs. Greengrass spoke up. She looked so much like the dead. Her face was pale as if all the blood had been drained from her. Her face was calm as she turned to Draco. His heart ripped apart as he met her eyes. She had the same bright blue eyes that Draco once confided in. She wasn't going to let him forget why they were all here. "She was taken from us too soon." 

He swallowed passed the lump in his throat. He should do something for them, he has taken away so much already. "We will make the appropriate appearances, then we will be on our way," Draco offered. He ignored the surprise that flashed on everyone's faces. He wasn't the one to decide such matters. If his parents wanted to challenge him, he would make them bleed. This was the one mercy he could provide. He would be damned if he didn’t offer what little comfort he could. 

But what was his comfort worth to the parents of the child he had killed? Daphne's mother smiled, a slow cruel smile that made Draco want to run. He knew the next words out of her mouth were meant to be cutting. She was going to do has much damage to him as she could. He pushed himself into cold detachment. "Well, your concern for our family is a bit late, don't you think?" 

He had spilt blood. He had taken the life of one of his only friends while her parents watched. He had begun to actively plot in a war far too large for him to take up a banner. He was so young. He was still so naïve. What was his comfort worth to them? They would push him away no matter what he did. The truly merciful act would be to ensure Daphne's blood had not spilt for nothing. In order for her sacrifice to be worth of any use, he would have to become what everyone thought he was. 

He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving Daphne's mother. She tightened her eyes slightly, Draco noticed her throat move with a swallow. He made her nervous. A simply polite smile crossed his face. Mr. Greengrass laid a hand on his wife's shoulder. They were scared of him. "Unfortunately, my involvement with your family is far from over. Let us make sure to be civil, yes?" he spoke in the same tone of voice that his mother had disowned him with. Cold. Piercing. Deadly. 

"If you think that I will let my daughters into your clutches-" Mrs. Greengrass hissed. 

"You mean your only living daughter," Draco stepped closer. "Let's not forget why we are all here." Mr. Greengrass tightened his hold on his wife. "If you think you have any say, then Astoria is already dead." He held both their gazes, a warning laced into a threat. The weight of their daughter's death already pressed down upon them. The thought of losing their only living child made the pair deflate. Neither one of them could catch his eye. 

He walked past the grieving parents, his own following behind him as he walked down the grand entrance of the home. The hall was bright from the large windows. He knew his way into the reception hall. The atmosphere the house gave was a light hearted one. The image of a family laughing, of a dinner party with tipsy smiles, of children running throughout the halls, was not far from one's imagination. The weight of death was heavy in the airy home. 

He entered the sea of mourners - all dressed uniformly in black out of respect for the dead. People hiding their sobs echoed around him. He entered a room of people with heavy hearts for the dead as an unknown murder. He was unable to cry because if he did, his own heart would shatter, the pieces piercing his lungs. He would drown in his own blood. 

A pair of bright green eyes met his. Sympathy so clear across Potter's face as Draco paled despite his attempts to steady his expression. They were surrounded by wolves who were starving. 

Draco's stomach twisted, his hands started to sweat as Potter walked over to him. Draco could sense his parents tense on either side of him. One wrong move, Draco would get all of them killed. "Potter," he ensured that no familiarity, no warmth, was in his voice. His face contorted into a sneer of displeasure. 

"Malfoy," Potter greeted with such a gentle voice. 

Draco's chest ached with how much he missed the late nights the pair of them spent by the fire. He missed the feeling of Potter's warmth at his side. He longed for the sweet laughter that would be shared only between the two of them. He wanted to wrap himself in Potter. Have Potter hold him until he was finally able to heal his own scared soul that was ripping him apart inside out. "I wasn't aware that you knew the deceased," he stated instead of all the words he knew he would choke on. 

Potter winced at his words, or perhaps at his tone of voice. He lowered his eyes as Draco reminded him where exactly they were. They weren't in the safe bricked walls of their home. They were in the middle of a frozen lake, the ice cracking around them under their feet. "I knew her from school," Potter's voice shook. 

"My condolences for your grief," Draco attempted to seem displeasingly polite. "I'll see you at school," he excused himself. 

He pushed by Weasley and Granger as he made his way to the middle of the room. His heart twisted at the amount of faces he recognized. The Greengrass's had allowed anyone who wished to pay their respects to Daphne into their home. This alone was a rebellion against the darkness that was closing in. Daphne had gotten her bravery from somewhere. Draco saw several professors and students not in the inner circle. All of Dumbledore's Army was gathered into a corner of the large, but cramped, room. No one would look at him. Everyone's gazes snapped away from him as he met their eyes. He had been there when the DA was discovered. He was there when punishments where given. He watched as students carved their sins into their hands, their blood staining the parchment. 

"Malfoy." Draco's head jerked up at the sound of his name. Mr. Weasley wasn't paying him any mind. 

Draco's father sneered next to him, he pushed Draco aside so that he could draw himself to his full height. "What a displeasure Weasley." 

"Always the polite one, aren't you?" Mr. Weasley challenged. 

Lucius pinched his lips tightly. He was coiled in on himself with the constant pressure that comes with being a Death Eater. The pressure of attending the funeral of a child that your own child had killed. The pressure of reaching for an attainable goal. He was about to break. 

"What brings you here?" Narcisa spoked for the first time today. "I didn't know you were close to the Greengrass'." 

Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows at Mrs. Malfoy's attempt at small talk. She wasn't one for unnecessary niceties. "We aren’t, but the kids knew Daphne. They wanted to pay their respects," Mr. Weasley explained politely.

"Well, how much is that worth, really?" Draco's father snapped. 

Draco's anger was in the form of an ice pick in his heart. "Father," he stated coolly. All three adults turned to the forgotten child. "We are at a funeral," he reminded his father, "remember your manners." 

The look on his father's face was worth whatever punishment he would receive. Draco further ignored Lucius, speaking directly to Mr. Weasley as his father opened his mouth to reprimand him. "How's work, Mr. Weasley?" Draco had probably spoken four words to Mr. Weasley in the past. 

Mr. Weasley's eye widened at Draco's forwardness. He glanced at Lucius before answering in a nervous tone, " Fine, thank you." 

Draco continued with the conversation despite the awkwardness from the three adults. "I'm glad," Draco's voice was too cheerful for a funeral. He was being too transparent in his politeness. He couldn't make himself care. "And I'm going to assume that you've made a full recovery?" 

Mr. Weasley tightened his gaze at Draco. Draco suspected that for the first time, he was being seen as himself instead of his father's son. An iron grip found Draco's shoulder as Lucius squeezed him with almost bruising force in warning. There was a cold burning in Draco stomach that wanted to make everyone sweat. He was starving for some form of control. He liked the taste. Despite the grip on his shoulder, and his mother's icy glare, Draco didn't take his eyes off Mr. Weasley. His smile only stretched further across his face. 

"Better than expected," Mr. Weasley eventually answered in a low voice. He was getting a glance of what Draco was. 

"I'm glad to hear that, as I understand, there was a bit of a close call?" Draco tilted his head. He was playing with fire. He couldn't make himself stop. 

"Malfoy," the She Weasel stepped next to her father. She was glaring at Draco with a daring challenge. Draco blinked. Her gaze reminded him of a pair of bright blue eyes and the smell of cigarette smoke. 

"I was just wishing your father a good recovery. I couldn't imagine losing my father at such a young age," Draco lied with ease. If the Weaslet were to hex him where he stood, Draco wouldn't have been surprised. 

She didn't get the chance. Draco's mother gently interrupted, "If you'll excuse us, we have yet to pay our condolences to the grieving couple." 

With that, Draco was pulled by the shoulder to a corner of the room. Lucius kept his grip bruising as he whispered a warning threat into his ear. Draco was shoved away, as if his own father was disgusted with him. He turned, but his parents had their backs to him. They were making their way to mingle appropriately. 

They left him alone in his grief. 

The burial wasn't for another half hour. Appearances had to be completed. Draco made his way through his peers. The former members of the DA all twisted their faces at him, but said nothing out of respect for the dead. He kept his head high but his gaze low. He didn’t know what he would do if he had to confront one of his peers that had seen him spill blood. Thankfully, everyone gave him a wide distance. The Slytherins wouldn't come near him in fear of the stranger that had replaced their fellow student. 

He did his best to appear somber as he found an empty stretch of wall. His expression was probably one of boredom that he cooled. If he allowed himself to feel his grief for a second, if he allowed himself to touch his own disgust with himself, he would crumble. Instead of digging into himself further, Draco watched the room.

Almost all of the fifth years were here in this one crowded hall. Everyone from the DA and the Slytherins of their year had come to Daphne's childhood home. Old family friends exchanged stories of the bright life that had dwindled. Some people who just happened to meet her briefly still showed to pay their respects. Daphne had been truly loved. He hoped she had known that as he had cut her life short. 

"You look like you could use a drink." 

"Professor," Draco's eyes widen at the sight of his old professor. 

"Remus, please," Professor Lupin corrected in a gentle voice. His jaw was unshaven, his hair disheveled, but his eyes still had a deep kindness in them that was learned from cruelty inflicted onto him. His suit was in a muggle fashion - no amount of magic could cast away the obvious wear. "Drink?" he probed again. 

"I don't," Draco stated dumbly. He was caught too off guard. Why was Lupin talking to him? After what he had done? 

"I certainly hope not," a small smile formed across Professor Lupin's lips as he teased. "It's water." 

Draco took the glass. He took a sip for something to do with his hands. He studied his old professor. The dark bags under his eyes. The deep frown lines that made him seem so much older than his mid-thirties. This war had yet to begin, but the pressure was already wearing people like a heavy cloak. 

"Are you here with Potter?" Draco asked with frigid politeness. He didn't want to have this conversation. 

"I am, but I knew Daphne from when I used to teach. I wanted to pay my respects." 

Draco nodded, sipping the water. Lupin didn't mention his father's involvement in getting him fired. He also didn't mention Draco's own involvement in the loss of his job. Nor did he mention the branding of werewolves the Malfoy's dipped into. Lupin was a merciful man. "Wasn't Daphne's boggart a giant cockroach?" Lupin broke into conversation. 

Draco smiled at the memory, "I don't think she was able to finish the spell." 

Lupin barked in laughter, "She ran out, if I'm remembering correctly."

"When you called out to her in the halls…what did you say again?" 

"I told her-" Lupin made his way through his wide smile "- I said, 'Let's come back inside so we can try this again', which she yelled-" 

"This is no way a WE situation," Draco giggled. The classroom had erupted into laughter after Daphne's snark. 

The two giggled at the memory. The reminder of what they were here for sobering them out of their smiles. "She aced the practical later though," Lupin confided. 

"Better than mine then." 

Shit. Draco shouldn't have gotten comfortable. Lupin tensed beside him. He took a long sip of his water. Draco's stomach coiled at the memory of his boggart. 

_Draco wasn't able to pinpoint his greatest fear, but he had a suspicion that dripped down his spine. He had managed to avoid the practice of the spell in class. He just shoved Goyle in front of him and went to the back of the class. He had even skipped the practical test. He just didn't show up. Fuck his grade. Professor Lupin had simply pulled him aside the next day and gave him detention._

_That is how he had found himself facing the wardrobe with his greatest fear on the other side of that door._

_"I'm not going to let you fail because of a lack of trying, Malfoy," Professor Lupin had explained. Draco at thirteen couldn't talk back to an adult. Not without someone egging him on._

_He just nodded, his hand sweaty around the handle of his wand. He was thankful not to have an audience for his humiliation._

_"I'm right here if this gets out of hand," Professor Lupin comforted before he opened the door._

_Draco's father stormed out. The spell died in Draco's throat as he stumbled backwards. His father's face was red with anger that gave Draco the deep reaction to sprint out of his path. All of the anger was focused on him._

_"Don't you dare walk away from me!" Lucius's voice froze Draco to the spot. His heart pounded in his ear. White hot fear speared Draco's spine. "You are such a disappointment, uncapable of carrying on the family with your disgusting perversion-"_

_Professor Lupin pushed Draco behind him to protect him from further abuse. Draco slumped to the ground, his head spinning. He was under water. His lungs tightened. He felt as if he was drowning. Draco started to choke, he couldn't breathe. He stuck his head in between his knees, he had to take up less space. He had to be less noticeable, but he had smoke in his lungs._

_Draco's vision was starting to go black at the edges. Perhaps form panic. Perhaps form the lack of air._

_He was dying. His heart was going to burst from his chest. His lungs were going to turn into liquid._

_There was a voice telling him something. He couldn't hear. He couldn't focus on anything but trying to stay alive in a body that was determined to squeeze the life from his chest._

_A gentle but firm hand pushed Draco back so that he was rested firmly against the desk. Professor Lupin seemed so calm as he rested a hand on Draco's thundering chest. "Draco, you're having a panic attack." Draco was sure he was having a heart attack. "But the most important thing to remember is that you're safe. You're safe and I'm not going anywhere."_

_If Draco had a clearer mind, he would tell Professor Lupin to fuck right off. Draco didn't need his pity. He didn't anyone. He never had anyone._

_The only thing he could focus on was his burning lungs, his twisted stomach, his blurry vision._

_He was pathetic. He couldn't even handle three seconds of having his father be angry before he was reduced to a trembling child. He should have known. He should have known what his fear was._

_Draco wiped a tear from his cheek with trembling fingers. His breathing was shallow, but he was breathing. He was sure he had just sprinted a mile, not just sit here and weep in terror. He was sweating, his shirt sticking to his back._

_Professor Lupin was sitting next to him now. His body language casual as he leaned against the desk. He seemed almost unconcerned with the student next to him. Draco wondered if that was his way of calming him down._

_Draco should lash out. He should push away the kindness that was offered him. Normally he would, but he was too tired. His bones felt so heavy. There was a burning in his muscles like after a long Quidditch practice. The sweat was drying on his body in a second itchy skin. He rested his head on his knees. His breathing was finally normal._

_"Has this ever happen before?" Lupin broke the silence they had drifted into._

_Draco shook his head slightly. He wasn't positive that he could voice himself. Professor Lupin hummed in response before digging into his pockets. Lupin handed Draco a bar of chocolate half eaten. Draco broke off a piece for himself. He nibbled at the candy._

_Now Lupin knew his most guarded secret. Draco had been pushing this fear deeper into himself. He allowed himself to coil his fear into his chest, to have his fear fester into something that he can physically taste. He had been in denial, truly, but his boggart just proved his suspicions. He couldn't run from himself anymore._

_"I'll pass you for the retest, don't worry about your grade," Professor Lupin comforted._

_"Isn't that against the rules?" Draco challenged._

_"What's the point of being a professor if you can't bend the rules a little?"_

_"You'll only pass me?" Draco teased._

_"So you're going to get cheeky with me now?"_

_The pair laughed. Draco was surprised by how relaxed he was after the panic that had slammed into him. Lupin handed him another piece of chocolate. They finished their candy in peace. "If you ever need anything, I want you to know that my door is always open," Lupin offered._

_Draco's neck burned with his blush, "I don't need your pity."_

_"It's not pity, it's sympathy. I know what you're going through and I want you to know that you're not alone in this," he explained._

_"And how would you have any clue what I'm going through?" Draco snapped._

_Lupin couldn't meet his eyes. He wasn't about to spill his own secrets. "Just know that I'm here if you need me."_

_Draco stood, his knees shaking as he turned his back on the kindness, "I don't need anyone." He left the door open on his way out._

"I should find my family," Draco choked. 

A hand on his bicep stopped him from leaving. Lupin stepped closer, his eyes kind. "My door is always open if you need anything. If you find yourself in a situation you can't get out of-" 

"Draco, don't lower yourself to speak with such scum," Lucius interrupted. His chin was high so that he could look down on Professor Lupin. Lupin's hand tightened on his arm, he was protective of his old student. He was under the impression that his father was still his boggart. Draco could only wish that his fears were so mild. 

"I was being polite, given that situation. Perhaps you should try a more delicate approach yourself Father," Draco quibbled. Lupin pulled Draco behind him as the furry flashed across Lucius's eyes. If only Draco could be saved so easily. 

"Know your place, werewolf," Lucius growled. He didn't want to draw attention to this embarrassing situation. 

"You should go," Lupin's grip tightened on Draco's arm, "before I show you yours." 

"Threatening a Ministry employee? Do I need to remind you of my reach?" 

Lucius was constantly shoved aside by their lord. He wanted to prove that he was still powerful, if only to himself. He would grind Professor Lupin to dust just to prove his own power. If Draco said the wrong thing, that anger would be directed at him. He didn't have a death wish. He whispered to Professor Lupin, who would be easy to manipulate. "Please," Draco laced his voice with false vulnerability, "don't make it any worse."

Lupin steadied him with knitted eyebrows. The sympathy and frustration so clear on his face. His expression was gentle against the deep scars in his skin. "Don't be a stranger," a warm hand patted Draco on the back, "And my offer still stands." Lupin shoved past Lucius harshly. Lucius didn't stumble, but he had to grip his cane with white knuckles.

"I don't need to remind you that appearances are necessary," Lucius hissed, his hand dig into Draco's already sore shoulder. 

"Let's not forget why we're here. I know exactly what is necessary," Draco pulled out of his father's grasp. 

Draco mingled half-heartedly. No one wanted to talk to him. He just nursed his water as he made nice with anyone who would meet his eyes. 

Blaise and Bulstrode stood next to Ms. Zabini. She gave Draco a hug as he passed her. He made himself hug her back. He didn't deserve to be comforted. 

Theo stood with Crabbe and Goyle. All avoided his gaze. Pansy paled when she saw him. She turned away from him. 

"Do you know when the burial starts?" a familiar voice asked from behind Draco. 

He turned. He looked down at the small girl with dark skin and brown hair. "Alfie," he greeted. "I think it should start soon." She nodded. She was wearing a black dress, her hair was in a braid down her back. "How's Astoria? I've seen you two together before," Draco couldn't ask her himself. He wasn't cruel. 

Alfie shrugged, "She hasn't been out of her room. She won't let anyone in." 

He should stop talking to her. He was risking the identity that he had laced himself into to keep his life. He couldn't stop. "I suppose that is reasonable." 

"Draco, what happened?" she whispered. She was looking up at him. Her eyes were so trusting. 

"She drowned," he lied for her sake as much as his own. 

"Bullshit." 

"Alfie, drop it." 

The hurt in her eyes was clear as they widened. She had been under the impression that he would be trusting. He changed the subject, "Who did you come with anyway?" 

"My cousins," she allowed Draco to drop the subject. 

"I didn't know you had wizard cousins." 

"You didn't ask," she shrugged. 

"Who-" 

"Get the fuck away from my cousin, Malfoy," a voice growled behind him. 

"Merlin, you're a Weasley?" he realized. "My greatest sympathies." Draco turned to face Weasley. Alfie remained next to Draco. Potter was at his friend's side. Draco couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes, so he focused on Weasley. 

"I'm not. I'm a Prewett," Alfie scowled. 

"Come on Mafalda, you don't want to talk to the likes of him," Weasley sneered. 

"Mind your manners, Weasley. We're at a bloody funeral," Draco cooled, making Weasley blush in shame. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must find my respectable family," he excused himself. "I'll see you at school," he called over his shoulder to Alfie. 

Draco felt Potter's hand on his arm. He forced himself not to tremble under his touch. Thankfully, Potter let him go. 

 

Draco made his way through the thick underbrush of the forest behind the Greengrass's manor. After the burial, Lucius had decided that their reputation would be helped if the Malfoy family stayed for the wake. He liked to be cruel. He didn't have any power in his own home. 

Draco had slipped out the back door. He had already caused enough pain, his presence wasn't needed. He and Daphne used to play in these woods whenever they could manage to slip away from their parent's watchful gazes. They would return with scrapped knees and dirty clothes. 

There was no breeze through the tight trees, but the weather was pleasant. Draco made his way to the creek that wasn't too far from the edge of the woods. He had waited for his grief to hit him at the burial, but no tears had come. Not even when Daphne's mother had sobbed through her eulogy. Nothing. He felt nothing. 

He found the creek. He crystal clear water he remembered was brown. The massive current was a slow tickle. The girl he used to play with here was dead at his hand. Her body then used to the worst type of magic. Her sacrifice was never ending.

A gasp made him pull himself from his thoughts. Astoria was sitting across the creek. She was wrapped in a pale blue cloak. The same cloak Daphne had been wearing when Draco had slit her throat. They must have washed away the blood. Draco's cold disconnection snapped away at the sight of the tear stricken girl. 

"I'll just be going," he stood a step back. 

Astoria scrambled to stand. She rushed across the creek, the water coming to her knees. She looked so young in the too large cloak that had been her sister's. Her eyes were wide at the sight of her sister's murder. She opened her mouth, but she was past words. Tears flowed down her face as she glared at Draco. 

He was frozen. He was frozen as she came to the bank of the tiny creek. He was frozen as Astoria picked up a rock and threw the stone at his head. 

The rock hit the tree behind him. He should run, or cover his face. He could only stand there as another rock was thrown. 

This one blistered pain across his cheek. 

He accepted the pain with open arms. 

The rocks continued to pummel against his body, but he couldn't make himself run away. 

He deserved this. If Astoria stoned him to death he would be grateful. 

He killed Daphne, then he stole her body. 

His knees hit the damp grown as he accepted the stones that bruised his body. They hit his arms, his chest, his shoulders. They almost hurt as much as raising his wand to steal Daphne's memories. 

A large rock hit his shoulder, he instinctually brought his arms up to cover his chest.

He was given kindness at the funeral of the friend he had killed. Rocks shot against his arms. 

A rock hit the side of his head, he snapped onto his back from the force. He looked up at the pale blue sky. Blood stained his pale blond hair. He couldn't make himself care over the sudden pressure in his skull. 

The sound of hurried feet through the underbrush over the ringing in his ears. Astoria stood before him. She wanted to make him feel half the pain she felt. Astoria shook as she dropped the stone she held in her hand. Her eyes wide at the sight of blood dripping from blond hair.

If they were going to work together, if Draco was going to keep his promise to Daphne, he had to earn Astoria's trust. She watched as Draco pulled a lighter from his pocket. He help the zippo lighter in front of him. Astoria steadied her gaze on her sister's lighter. She stepped forward, snatching the lighter out of his hand. He let her, he blinked as blood leaked into his eyes. He focused on her instead of the swaying ground. 

"I gave that to her when we were betrothed," he explained, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

"I know," she snapped. She hated him. "She liked you. She thought you could be trusted." 

"She asked me to protect you before… that night." 

"You mean before you sliced her throat open and let her bleed out under your feet?" 

"Yes," he wasn't capable of being cleaver. 

Astoria leveled him with a glare. Her brown eyes were red from crying. "I hate you." 

"I know," he acknowledged. 

"I'll never forgive you." 

"I know." 

She tossed the lighter onto his lap. "She would want you to have this." She walked pass him to the house. 

Draco just laid there, blood dripping from his head. His body bruised and sore. The sun was dipping into in the sky when he finally sat up. His head pounded at the movement. The blood was dry on his face. He should make his way back to the manor. He would find his parents then they will be on their way. 

Standing was a struggle. His head begged him to lay back down, but he made himself start to walk. He was only able to walk a couple of feet before a large black dog made him stop. The hound was blocking his path. His family had never had any pets before. He could be about to get mauled. That was about his luck. Draco started to walk around the dog, but the dog just stepped into his path. The hound looked up at Draco, as if contemplating something. His head hurt too much for him to deal with this.

He blinked. The dog grew into a man. The man was wearing a long dark coat. Tattoos lined his chest and neck. Draco couldn't see his arms. Long black hair was tied back into a loose bun. Sirius Black. 

"What the fuck?" Draco hurried backwards, taking out his wand. What was happening? How hard did Astoria hit his head? 

"Sorry, sorry. Nothing to worry about," Black raised his hands to show just how harmless he was. 

Draco blinked. How was he going to handle this? He didn’t want to hurt Potter's godfather. What was Black thinking? "What do you want?" Draco demined, his wand still raised. 

"Relax, I just wanted to meet you. Harry talks about you all the time." 

That was meant to be a comforting statement, but Draco just felt nauseous. He wasn't prepared to handle this, not in this state. "What do you mean he talks about me?" he wanted to shout, but he kept his voice steady. 

"Not all the time! Just when we're alone. I promise. He even made me swear not to tell anyone," Black explained. 

Draco stared at the man in front of him. Black sent him a nervous smile. "And you thought introducing yourself was a good idea?" Merlin, he was more impulsive than Potter. Merlin, his head was in a fog. How the fuck was he supposed to handle this? 

"Well…why not?" Black shrugged. 

If Draco had a week he wouldn't be able to list all of the reasons why not. He lowered his wand. He didn't have a lot of options. "Nice to meet you," he shook Black's hand. His nails were filthy. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Harry has only said good things." 

"Now I know you're lying," Draco charmed. What information could he get from Black? 

Sirius laughed. He had the laugh of someone who hadn't laughed enough in his lifetime. "Almost all good things." 

How do you talk to a current outlaw who has been on the run for the last two years? "You have a smoke?" Draco asked. He was about to vomit. His head pounded in his ears. 

Black shuffled through his pockets. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He gave Draco a smoke without a comment of his age. Draco lit both smokes with his zippo lighter. He was thankful for something to do with his hands. He thought about a safe conversation topic. The list he was coming up with was short. 

"Harry says you're a Seeker," Sirius mentioned. 

The pair discussed Quidditch, then teams. Draco forced himself to pay attention over the pressure in his head. The conversation turned to Sirius becoming an animagus. He laughed at Draco's joke about fleas. 

"Did you know the girl?" Sirius asked as he blew the smoke from his lungs. 

"Just a bit," Draco lied. 

Sirius nodded, "It's such a shame. Dumbledore should have protected her." 

"Don't let Potter hear you say that," Draco prompted. This was the first time someone has ever spoken badly about beloved Dumbledore. Through his will alone, he made himself investigate over the splitting headache that was bright behind his eyes.

Sirius snorted, "Tell me about it. Remus is even worst. Any words spoken against him is worst that swearing." 

"Do you have a lot to say?" Draco instigated. 

Sirius steadied him with a glare. "I grew up with my brother, if you want information, don't be a coward. Just ask." He saw right through Draco. Draco would blame the headache for being so translucent. 

Draco puffed around his smoke. He took the moment to think about his next words. "Three people know about me and Potter. You," He leaned against the tree behind him. "Snape, and Dumbledore." Sirius ran a hand over his unshaved chin. "I just need to know if he can be trusted." 

Sirius sighed, "He can, if you suit his needs." 

"Explain." 

"I mean, if you are devoted to him he will go through impossible lengths to help you," Sirius walked Draco through is thoughts. 

"If, let's say, I'm devoted to Potter?" Draco asked. 

"He will make you into a tool to be disposed of." 

Draco nodded. His mind tucked away new information. In this state, he couldn't analyze. Sirius could have been speaking from a place of bias, but he had no reason to lie. 

A snap behind Draco made him twist around white pain shot in his skull. Sirius turned into his dog formed beside him. Draco's heart lurched to his throat, how would he talk himself out of this one? His head felt fuzzy.

Potter stepped out from behind the shadows from the tall trees. Draco’s shoulders slumped. His heart sped up. With one concern look from Potter, he could almost be washed away of this pain of this spring break.

“You’re bleeding,” Potter rushed over to him. His eyes were so green. 

“Ah, sorry about that. I would try to patch you up, but my healing magic is all sorts of whack,” Sirius turned back into his human form. Draco wondered if he always turned into a dog when he was surprised.

Potter’s eyes widen at the sight of his godfather. He glanced at Draco, who wasn’t surprised at the transformation. “You two have met,” he observed.

“Just now,” Draco explained. He should be mad, furious even, that Potter had betrayed his trust, but he couldn’t pass the pure relief he felt at seeing Potter. He also couldn't make himself focus. “He wanted to introduce himself.”

“Oh.... it’s not like that. Please don’t be mad at me,” Potter begged.

Sirius jumped in with, “It’s not like I have anyone to tell. You can’t blame him for wanting to talk about his boyfr-“

“We should go,” Potter interrupted with a high voice.

“You two go on ahead,” Draco's neck heated. “We can’t be seen together.”

“How are you getting home?” Potter asked.

“I came here with my parents.”

“...they’ve already left.”

Sirius snorted through his nose. “I’ll find someone to take me home,” Draco planned. Why would his parents leave him? What sort of unique punishment was this? Fire lit in his stomach as he thought of asking the Greengrass’s fireplace to floo. Were they trying to punish Draco or the family of the daughter he killed?

“Everyone’s gone,” Potter explained. “Mrs. Weasley wanted to stay and help tidy up.”

“So everyone else is gone?” Draco asked.

“Basically, yeah,” Potter shrugged.

“We can take him home then,” Sirius offered.

Potter paled, he glanced at Draco. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”


	18. Chapter 18

How ironic that in order to arrive to platform nine and three-quarters, a wizard had to travel through the heart of muggle London. 

Muggle children held the hands of their parents. Teenagers laughed between themselves. People milled around. Perhaps Draco had seen several of these faces before but only in glances over the years. The family he had witnessed murdered, maybe he had walked by that family before. Here. The place where he walked several times a year, off on his way to school. He found himself studying faces as he walked by the crowds, but what was the point? What was his memory worth at a glance if he was simply going to spill whatever blood was necessary? 

He couldn't stop himself. He watched the crowd move and breath around each other. How many would be dead at the hand of this war? In a year from now, in five years from now, how many would be killed? Would the crowds be less full? Would they continue, but with the deep weight of oppression from an enemy they didn't know they had? For now, Draco could only watch. 

Draco sat alone in the train cart. The sense of nostalgia was gone. He was too different of a person to want for his childhood. He was still a child himself. For the first time in his young life, Draco had walked alone to the train to Hogwarts. 

A house elf was ordered to Apparate Draco to a clear space a few blocks from the station. Apparently, he was old enough to take himself to school. His parents didn't even say goodbye to him. 

The crowd had been overwhelming alone. Everyone kept him at a distance as he shot them icy glares. He was glad people could tell he was dangerous, they could protect themselves from him. He kept his head high as he walked down the platforms. There was the sound of an owl. The sight of heavy wooden trunks and leather suitcases. Parents returning their children to school from break. 

He had rushed to find an empty train cart. 

He was finally safe. He could finally breath. 

There was no one here to read a thought that had simply crossed his mind. There was no one here watching him. There was no need for Draco to so carefully force himself to blend in with the background. 

He let himself relax for the first time since he had gotten off this train a little over a week ago. Just a little over a week ago, and Draco's life had tilted to an impossible angle. 

The families outside the train said their last goodbyes. Warm hugs were passed from parent to child. Draco couldn't remember the last time his parents had hugged him. 

A bad taste in his mouth was left as he watched the Weasleys say goodbye to each other. Mrs. Weasley patted Potter on the cheek after wrapping him in a tight hug. 

What was worse? Never knowing your family but having one take you in with warm open arms, or having your given family hate you? Would you rather be looking from the outside in, or inside out? 

After what the Weasleys had done for Draco, he hope they survived the next stages of a war they knew was coming. 

_"Dear, I think you have a concussion," Mrs. Weasley's voice was laced with concern that put Draco's teeth on edge._

_The Weasleys had Apparated Draco with their family to their home that was more than just a shell of a house. Mrs. Weasley had started dinner, some sort of stew. Draco hadn't been paying attention._

_Lupin was sitting next to Draco at the large wooden kitchen table. Mr. Weasley was attending to dinner as his wife examined a bleeding Draco. The little Weasleys, the many, many little Weasleys, had been hurried out of the room by a stern Mrs. Weasley. Potter was also included under 'little Weasleys'. Draco's dress robes were hanging from one of many hooks next to the front door. He did his best to keep his shirts sleeves over his arms. The bruises were deep from Astoria's grief by the river._

_"I don't know a spell for a concussion," Mrs. Weasley look to her husband, who shrugged. "You would think I would." She smiled down at Draco, who even with his pounding headache could tell she was trying to out Draco at ease. "Having raised so many boys. They're always running into things. That's way I have a couple of spell books…"_

_Draco's head was splitting in two. "There's no need-" his voice was rough._

_"Sweetie, we're not going to just leave you like this," Mrs. Weasley hushed him._

_"I know a couple, I can walk you through it." If his head didn't hurt so much, if he wasn't in a fog, he would have noticed the three pairs of eyes glancing at each other. Instead, he instructed Mrs. Weasley. Who, with gentle fingers through his bloodied hair, casted the spell that vanished Draco's headache into a warm cloud. He had to blink away tears of relief as he could finally relax his jaw. "I appreciate your help," he spoke lowly._

_"Of course, dear. Luckily you're quite the smart one," Mrs. Weasley flattered. As he looked up at her face, the sympathy he saw in her eyes made his stomach twist. Her eyes were glassy with tears unshed. When was the last time someone shed tears for him? He made himself look away. Her motherly touch was still in his hair. He leaned away from her touch, he didn't deserve comfort. If she knew half of what he was, she would recoil instead of reach to him. Her voice broke as she turned to her husband, "Let me take over dinner, dear."_

_The evening was a stilled one. Despite his attempts to blend in with the wallpaper, the fact that Draco Malfoy was sitting for supper with the Weasleys was not something that could be toed around. His shocking blond hair made him stand out no matter how quiet he remained. Alfie sat on his right for dinner. Lupin sat to his left. Draco was only hyper aware of Potter. He was sitting on the far end of the table next to the Weaslet._

_As dinner continued, Draco was amazed at how warm everyone was with each other. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to genuinely like their children as people, not as objects for status or bloodline. The Weasley siblings laughed with each other around Draco. He was so much of an outsider looking in. This is what a family could be._

_After bowls were emptied and dishes cleared, Mr. Weasley stood. "I'll Apparate you home," he spoke over the chatter and scraping of chairs. Draco's blood turned to ice in his veins. He swallowed down his panic as he took his plate to the sink to further stall._

_His parents had left him. Left him in the home that had hugged the family that he had made bleed in grief. What had they expected him to do? Walk home? What would happen to him when he stepped out of this home that had welcomed him? Walking into a blood traitor's home made you one yourself. Were his parents punishing him? Was this their twisted way of acting out against him? He had locked them into a corner, but his mother had claws sharper than his._

_"Actually." Draco turned from the sink. "Would you mind if I use your Floo?"_

_The room stilled. All eyes turned to him. His hands started to sweat._

_Stupid. He was an idiot. They had closed off the Malfoy Manor from their Floo. Everyone here knew why._

_"Well, dear-" Mrs. Weasley stumbled for an excuse._

_"Don't lie to the Death Eater Mum," Ron sneered._

_"Ron!" Potter spoked up. He showed his heart too easily._

_Draco wished he was the person he was a week ago, those words would have made him flinch. He longed for that label not to be worn on him with such familiarity._

_"I was actually going to Severus'," Draco ignored how uneasiness settled under everyone's skin. He hadn't even reacted to being called a Death Eater. Murder._

_"Does he know you're coming?" Lupin spoked up._

_The lie was easy on his tongue. "Before the little bump I was going to go there from the Greengrass's."_

_"You were?" Potter asked._

_"I usually spend a few days over the break with my godfather," Draco explain. His rested his hands on the sink behind him. His sleeves rode up on his arms._

_"What's on your arm dear?" Mrs. Weasley leaned into him._

_Draco jerked to cover his wrist with his sleeve. He didn't have to look down to know that there was a deep dark bruise on his exposed skin. The attention of everyone was a knife twisting into hot embarrassment in his stomach. He could feel Potter's concern for him from across the room. "I told you I fell," he snapped. His defense was too obvious. Everyone glanced at each other. Draco could see the conclusions arrive in their minds._

_"What sort of fall leaves someone with bruises like that?" Lupin investigated._

_Draco kept his voice light. He wasn't trying to be convincing in his lie anymore. "A fall down stairs."_

_"I thought you fell in the forest," Lupin challenged._

_"There are stairs in the woods."_

_"You don't have to lie to us," Alfie spoke up from where she sat._

_"Draco, if someone is hurting you-" Mrs. Weasley's voice was more gentle than he thought possible._

_"No." His voice was stone. He didn't deserve this. If someone was going to offer him help, he would turn on himself. "Thank you, but no."_

_"Malfoy-" Granger spoke up from her seat next to Ron._

_"I think it's time for me to go." Draco interrupted her. He pushed himself from the sink. Lupin stood up as he tried to block Draco's way, but Draco pushed passed him with a rough shove with his bruised shoulder._

_The room was in a stilled silence as Draco walked pass the large wooden table that was meant for a large laughing family._

_"I'll see you at school," Alfie called out to him as Mr. Weasley handed him is cloak._

_Draco managed a small familiar smile, "Yeah, I'll see you later."_

_No one else said their goodbyes to him as he followed Mr. Weasley out of the kitchen._

_Draco was lead down a narrow hallway. The hall was lined with pictures of smiling and waving Weasleys. Potter would be seen smiling next to Ron in a couple pictures. The Weasley's home was openly well lived in. Love bleed from the walls._

_The living room was filled with outdated worn furniture. Books cluttered on the crowded space of shelves. Cloaks and shoes were tossed  
to whatever space was available. Draco noted a pair of shoes that belonged to Potter along with the rest._

_Mr. Weasley stopped in front of a fireplace. He steadied Draco with a gaze. Draco couldn't read him. Was this pity? Sympathy? Or did he see Draco was what he was, for the blood he had spilt?_

_"Draco," Mr. Weasley spoke softly, "I don't know what danger you're in-"_

_"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco lied easily._

_"Just let me finish. You don't have to say anything," Mr. Weasley corrected gently. Draco's throat closed up, he swallowed pass the lump. "I don't know what danger you're in, but you must know that you have a way out. If you are willing to fight for your safety, you have people who will protect you."_

_Draco laughed. A dry, humorless laugh. They couldn't protect him. They were already making themselves a target, they were already in danger. What would they do if a real threat came? Draco couldn't expect them to shield him over their own children. He wouldn't let them hurt themselves for him. He wasn't worth it._

_"Just give me the powder."_

_Mr. Weasley didn't have anything to say after Draco's retort. He just wanted to get out of the home that made him vain in jealousy for the love that was lacking in his own house. He stepped into the fireplace. Mr. Weasley gave him a small smile as Draco tossed the powder at his feet. The last thing he saw was Potter peeking into the room from the hall._

_Draco hurried out onto the dark wood of Severus's living room. Soot clung to the hem of his robes as a reminder of his evening. As if he need a physical reminder of seeing Potter in his home, with his founded family. He was constantly the outsider looking in._

_"Malfoy," a familiar voice froze him to the spot. "I didn't know you would be joining us."_

_Draco's stomach twisted. The danger almost a physical presence. Death was never far from where he stood. Draco turned around to the two figures having tea._

_"Dumbledore."_

Draco's eyes snapped to the door as there was a slide of wood on wood. Blaise walked in, a grinning Theo following closely. 

Draco held his breath. 

Theo froze at the sight of him. He had the same expression that he had whenever he looked at his father. Fear. 

The breath visibly was knocked from Theo's lungs. The sound made Blaise turn, his hand reaching out. Theo stumbled backwards away from the comforting touch. 

"Babe, what's-" Blaise's voice rose in concern. 

Theo was out the door. 

There was an icepick in his chest that Draco swallowed down. Blaise gave him a confused glance. Draco turned his head to look out the window to hide his face. 

Parents started to wave at the train as the wheels gently started to turn. His parents never had waved at him when he was leaving for school, but they always sent chocolates ahead of time. The box of chocolates were always wrapped in silver paper. Even though Draco knew what was wrapped in the box, he was always warmed by the touch. 

There was no warmth in that memory now. 

Draco could hear the shuffling of footsteps outside the train cart. Everyone was greeting their friends from over the break. The sounds of their smiles split Draco's ears in a twisted sort of jealousy. No one would each out to comfort him within this train. 

He didn't deserve warmth. He was twisted. Whatever was gnarled in the Dark Lord's soul was also in Draco's. 

"Cart's taken," his voice was a knife to whatever poor soul happened to open the wrong door. When the door didn't close, Draco glanced at the entry. No one was there. With an irritated flick of his wand the door slammed shut. 

"Hey," Potter removed the invisibility cloak. 

Draco didn't say anything as he took in the sight of Potter. He didn't look any different from a week ago when they boarded the train to leave. He supposed there was no physical change to himself either. 

Potter took the seat next to him. Draco looked out the window. Potter's arm, his thigh, was touching his. His hands itched to touch, to feel something other than pain for this too brief ride back to Hogwarts. He clasped his hands in his lap instead. If Potter knew what these hands had done, he would recoil as Draco reached out to him. 

"I'm sorry," Potter whispered. 

"This wasn't your fault," Draco answered. He hated how cold his voice was. 

Potter didn't need coldness now. He needed some kindness, some warmth. Potter would take the responsibility for Daphne's death. There was nothing Draco could do to pull that grief from Potter's hands. He clung to grief by the very tips of his fingers. When would the weight of the death that followed Potter, but had yet to find him, be enough to force him to the floor? How much blood would Draco spill and Potter bare the grief? Was Draco strong enough to carry Potter's grief, as well has his own? Was he worthy? 

"Potter." He turned away from the rolling green hills of the country side. Potter's eye met his. Draco's heart fluttered in his chest with gentleness that he didn't think he would be capable of after he had dipped his hands in blood and sin. The concern in Potter's eyes that he could see clearly with how close they were made Draco feel brighter. His mouth opened, but no words were formed. 

Potter smiled a gentle smile, one that was kind his pain. Potter was so strong. He was made of iron and steel without shielding his heart. Draco couldn't make himself into iron, but he could twist himself into something dangerous. 

"I missed you," Draco whispered in an answer to Potter's smile. 

"Me too," Potter nodded. 

"Shouldn't you be with the Weasley's? Your shadows will be wondering where you went off to," Draco teased. "Or are they too busy sucking face to notice?" 

Potter smacked him on the arm. "Draco! Gross!" 

"What, don't tell me you don't see it. You think about sucking face too, you shouldn't be so judgmental." 

"No I don't," Potter instantly defended. 

Draco hadn't felt so light in weeks, death wasn't hanging from his robes. "You don't think about kissing, Potter?" Draco joked. He was buzzing with Potter's very presence. 

Potter blinked at him. "Shut up." He gave Draco an elbow in his ribs and a warm smile. 

That smile made Draco lean in. His head was warm from the breath of fresh air that was being with Potter. Potter's face slacked into surprise as Draco's forehead almost touched his. 

Draco made the most exaggerated kissing noises he was capable of. 

A rough shove to his chest dumped Draco's back against the seat. A wheeze of laughter forced a snort from Draco's chest. 

"What the fuck was that?" Potter burst into laughter. 

Draco's ribs ached with the laughter. His stomach cramped in a way that wasn't twisting. Potter was laughing just as loudly. Too loud. "Shhh- Shut up, Potter," Draco hushed as he lowered himself into giggles. 

"What-why did you-" Potter wheezed. 

"It was funny!" Draco defended. 

The pair dispersed into chuckles between them. The cloak of shame Draco had wrapped himself in was lifted from his shoulders as Potter grinned at him. 

"Hey, um," Draco's usually slick tongue tied itself into a knot. How was he supposed to put into words everything? "I'm sorry that I couldn't warn you that Umbridge had found the DA." 

Potter's smile turned bitter. "Seems like the least of our problems, right?"

 

Last night was the third night in a row Draco had woken to the sounds of screaming. 

Draco had waited until Blaise went to soothe away Theo's nightmares before he attempted to lay back down. His own curtains had remained tightly shut as Blaise whispered calming words to his boyfriend. As the weeks had passed, Draco hadn't forgotten his own silencing spell around his bed. His nightmares had been deadly. 

The sight of Daphne's death, her body after, twisting and coiling unnaturally in death from his hand, was laced behind his eyelids. 

The sounds of Theo's night terrors nailed into his ears. Crabbe and Goyle passed on tense smiles with too friendly voices. Pansy wouldn't look at him. 

No one had whispered a word of the truth of Daphne's death. Her presence was a void in the students of Hogwarts. 

Draco observed the students around him as he let his breakfast cool. He didn't have much of an appetite these days. Laughter stilled around him as students avoided him. They could smell the death on him. The Slytherins had been recoiling around him. Fear leaked from the students that had watched Draco kill, that fear dripped into the Slytherin house and out to the rest of Hogwarts. 

Crabbe and Goyle sat across from him. Draco dulled out their conversation. His skin crawled as they kept glancing at him. They looked at him to make sure he wouldn't lash out, to make sure he wouldn't snap their necks. 

Draco sensed movement at his side, but he didn't turn to see who had sat next to him. Crabbe squared his jaw, but Goyle elbowed him in the ribs before he could say anything. 

"How was everyone's break?" Theo asked. Draco took a large bite of his porridge so he didn't have to talk as Crabbe and Goyle struggled for answer. 

"Aren't you in charge of choosing who else will be in the Inquisitor Squad?" Theo asked Draco after he had drifted farther into his thoughts. 

"Yeah, she wants to know soon, too. To help with the shift of Headmasters and all," Draco explained. Theo was talking to him, but he wouldn't meet his gaze. 

"Do you know who you're going to pick?" Theo continued asking him questions. 

"Only the best I'm sure," Parkinson sat on the other side of Draco. Draco's skin crawled as her hand slid up his arm onto his shoulder. She leaned in closer to his space. He could see each of her lashes as she steadied him with eyes that would peak his interest if he was mildly attracted to women. 

"I'm still thinking it over," Draco turned back to his breakfast. 

"We would love to show some Gryffindor snobs their places," Crabbe waved his fist in an overly enthusiastic show of support. 

"With your permission of course," Goyle covered for his mate, his eyes wide in barley covered panic. 

"Well who else," Pansy continued to flattered. 

Draco's stomach twisted. His porridge was concrete in his mouth. They were scared of him. Scared to the point of kneeling rather than risk his anger. They had grown up together. All of them. Yet they look at him and saw nothing but a murderer. In their eyes, he was forever changed. Would they always see crimson ribbons in long blond hair when they looked at him? Would they always see him dripped in blood with an easy smile of his lips when they see him laugh? Would they always look at his hands, knowing he was able to take life like someone blew out a candle? Was he anything else? 

He stood, Pansy's hand falling away as he walked away from the table. There was a hush that fell wherever he went like a shadow of death. 

He kept his head low as tears boiled behind his eyes. He could feel the shame make his face red. His hands started to shake. Why now? Why was his heart pounding like he had just killed Daphne now and not a week ago? Why were his lungs squeezing the life out of him? 

He crossed the doorway of the Great Hall, his head still down. He had to leave. Find a place to breath. 

A thud against his side nearly sent him spiraling to the floor. 

He turned to the person, a curse on the tip of his tongue- 

Astoria. 

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her sister's killer. Draco's head felt the caress of pain from where she had thrown a rock at him. The blood rushed to his ears. His words snuffled in his throat. What could he say to her? 

"Astoria," a too familiar voice spoke from behind Draco. 

Potter took his place at Draco's side. Draco couldn't stop himself from staring at him. Potter's face was knitted in concern. "Look, Astoria, I'm really sorry about your sister-" 

Daphne would laugh at the situation. 

She would make slight glances at Draco while this conversation happened. The ridiculousness of it. The fucking irony. After, when they were alone with smoke in the air from their cigarettes, she would laugh. She would talk about what an idiot Draco was, for not being prepared for this exact situation. She would chide him and ridicule him. 

But she wasn't here. He had killed her. 

If only that was the only thing he had done to her. 

He pushed by Potter and Astoria, ignoring Potter's calls after him. 

 

Everywhere Draco walks, he sees her. 

He wasn't to blame for seeing her in the stones of the castle where they had lived for the last five years. She had been here, warm and breathing, just a little over a week ago. 

Her death was a sudden to everyone, including her, after he had taken her memories under her command. Her death was sudden to everyone, except him. To a murder, death was never sudden. To him, her death wasn't a surprise, but he still bled from clawing his heart out. 

The stones beneath his feet turned into soft, lush green grass as he entered the Divination classroom. He kept his gaze low to avoid Professor Firenze's eyes. He wondered how much truth he would find in this gaze. Draco just knew that Firenze foretold Daphne was going to die the second her fire went out. Draco could only guess if his Professor knew that he was her killer. 

Draco sat in his usual spot in the soft grass. His side felt cold with Daphne's absence. He took his notes and books out of his bag as the other students filed into the classroom. He couldn't find his textbook. 

"Malfoy." Draco didn't look up as his Professor stood before him. He couldn't force himself to swallow the pity he would find in his expression. 

Where was his textbook? His spine tickled as he rushed to find his book. When Draco didn't answer after Firenze repeated his name, his Professor just sighed. "Come see me after class," he was ordered. 

The hoofprints left soft indents in the grass as he walked away. 

Did he forget his textbook? 

The spot next to him remained cold as no one took Daphne's usual seat. Draco felt the heat from Potter's gaze. They hadn't spoken since their few stolen moments on the train. 

His search turned frantic for his book.

The weight of Potter's constant stare weighed heavy on his shoulders. Wherever Draco went, if Potter was there, he was watching Draco. For what? Was he aware of how obvious he was being? One glance at the wrong time, and Draco was bleeding on the Manor floor.

Did he leave his book at the manor? 

What if the Dark Lord bled into Potter's mind at the wrong moment? How would Draco defend himself? 

Class was about to start. He was still frantic in his search for his damn textbook. He turned to Daphne, "Daphne, let me borrow yo-" 

The silence that hit the room sunk into his chest. He froze, he made sure to leave his face blank after the realization. How could he forget? He killed her, and he dared to forget that? Forgetting her, washing her blood from his hands, was the worst sin he could commit. If she was willing to give her life, her memories, her soul, carrying her memory was his sacrifice to contribute. 

"Here, we can share." Cho sat next to him in Daphne's place. 

"I don't need your-" 

"Shut up and use the book Malfoy," she hushed him easily. 

"If you are looking for a thank you-" 

"It's not like that," she defended. 

"Than what is it like?" Draco challenged. 

"Nothing- It's…I…"she ended with a sigh. Her eyes clouded over as she bit her lip. She studied Draco with knowing eyes. "I miss her, that's all." 

Draco swallowed down the lump in his throat. She was so honest. What was her motivation? Why be genuine now? What did she have to get out of this? 

He didn't voice any of these thoughts as class began. Professor's Firenze's voice washed over the class, but Draco couldn't force himself to pay attention. 

What did anyone have to win in this war? What did he have to gain? He was risking everything. How far was too far? What was he thinking? Promising Daphne that he would win this war when he was… no one. He was no one but the name that his father gave to him. No one but a status that wasn't a personality. No one but a child who killed in a desperate chance to save himself. He was a coward. And worst, he was a coward who could pick a side in this useless war. 

The Dark Lord. Dumbledore. Potter. His duties were to his Lord. His obligations were to Dumbledore. Potter… Potter was Draco's heart. How could one person be split so many directions? 

The feeling of Cho's glances made his face itch. What did she want? When her glances turned into stares, he shot a glare at her. She mumbled an apology and turned back to her book that was open on the ground in front of them. They were studying the planets today. Could the planets foretell the fate of earth as they looked down on the occupants? Divination was a waste of his time. 

Draco didn't have anyone to wait for anymore when class ended. He was the first one out the door, ignoring Professor's calls out to him. He ignored Potter's concerned looked. He ignored the sneers of other students. He was still trying to ignore his grief twisting a stab into his heart. 

 

In the end, Draco let Umbridge decide who was on the Inquisitorial Squad. Now he was stuck working with a bunch of assholes. 

Daphne would have punched him in the ribs for giving up that card. 

He had to stop doing that. Weeks had passed, yet all he could think of was what would Daphne do. What advice she would give. What she would say. What she would laugh at. 

She would have twisted his ear for acting the way he was. 

She wasn't here anymore. 

What she would have done was useless to him. 

He couldn't make himself stop. This unique self-torture was what kept him sharp. Not forgetting her was the fire in his soul, but that light was fading fast. 

Draco threw himself into his school work with what could be mistaken as determination. The truth was, he wasn't letting himself stop long enough to make a decision. He kept himself busy with whatever Umbridge had the Inquisitorial Squad doing that week. 

Wake up. Breakfast. Class. Lunch. Class. Study. Class. Dinner. Study. Sleep. 

Repeat. 

Don't think.

Wake up. Breakfast. Class. Lunch. Class. Study. Class. Dinner. Study. Sleep.

Repeat. 

Don't feel. 

Wake up. Breakfast. Class. Lunch. Class. Study. Class. Dinner. Study. Sleep. 

Repeat. 

Just do. 

Everyone left him alone. No one wanted his company. He didn't even want his own. 

He was avoiding Potter with surprising ease. Potter was keeping himself busy with something that didn't include Draco. Draco was almost grateful. 

Draco wasn't keeping track of the weeks as they passed. He was busy with studying for O.W.Ls. He was busy with the Inquisitorial Squad. He was busy with ignoring Potter. If he kept himself busy, he wouldn't have to think about his grief. If he kept himself busy he wouldn't have to think about what Dumbledore told him the night of Daphne's funeral. If he kept himself busy, he wouldn't have to think about what happen to Daphne after she died. 

He was only going to be able to keep this up for so long. He knew that, but if he waited long enough, he would be back in the Manor. Where fear could override his need to grieve. Then the ability to feel would be taken away from him. He could return to the cold distance he was able to wrap himself into. The cold was easier than pain. 

When Potter asked him for his penknife back, he wanted to say no. 

Potter had finally cornered him. Convinced him to meet him in the Astronomy Tower. 

_The night was bright in stars from the lack of moon. Draco had brought his own cloak so he wouldn't have to share with Potter. The more distance kept between them, the easier Draco was able to shove away his heart._

_They sat next to each other, but the distance between them had grown. The easy words they had spoken on the train had stopped. Draco was pulling away from Potter, he had to in order to curl in on himself. Potter just couldn't reach him in this state. Eventually, Potter would stop trying._

_The silence was no longer comfortable between them._

_Potter played with his hands in his lap. What was making him so nervous? Draco back tingled in a low panic. Was Potter about to ask him about Daphne? Draco had lace the lie into his every skin. He had folded his mind into a coil of fake thoughts and real shields. He had been lying so often that he wasn't sure if he could trust himself not to. Potter's sword was his bravery. Draco's shield was his lies._

_But Potter was true. He was Draco's friend. His only friend._

_Draco knew that keeping his twisted part of himself from Potter as long as possible was necessary. Potter would take one look at him, at the blood on his hands and the darkness in his veins, and recoil in disgust._

_He just wasn't ready to let Potter go just yet._

_He was a coward in the worst of ways._

_"I know it was a gift, but I need to borrow the penknife," Potter spilled out._

_That was what had been bothering him? "Merlin," Draco swore, "don't scare me like that. Of course you can borrow the knife. It's your fucking knife Potter." Draco reached in his pocket. When his hand touched the knife, his spine tightened in recognition of the gesture. Potter had been at her funeral. He had grieved for her. Now Draco was going to give him the very weapon used on her? He doubted Daphne would mind. She was killed, what means used didn't matter after the dead were gone._

_His hands still shook as he gave Potter the knife that had been covered in Daphne's blood._

_Potter slipped the penknife into his pocket, a grateful smile warming his eyes. "Thanks."_

_Draco didn't deserve warm smiles. "I have to go." He stood, grateful for the darkness so he would have to see Potter's disappointment._

_"Can't you stay?" Potter reached out to him._

_Potter's hand was so warm in his._

_"No, goodnight," Draco pulled away from Potter._

_Potter didn't call after him._

They hadn't talked since. Not as themselves. 

Draco sighed. He started to reread at the top of the page. His thoughts were too distracting for him to focus. 

The library was dark. Torches supplied the only dim light for reading. O.W.Ls were in a week, so the library was open late. Draco stayed here until curfew. He slept better if he was exhausted. Less time to think before he fell asleep. 

Movement from across him made him glance up. No one else was usually here this late. 

Cho didn't smile at him, but she didn't say anything either. She had continued to share her textbook with him in Divinations. Draco had let Daphne borrow it after she had lost hers. He couldn't make himself ask Astoria if she knew where it was. 

"Malfoy," Cho whispered despite the empty library. 

"Hmm," Draco didn't look up from his book. 

"I'm sorry," Cho admitted. 

That made him look up. He was too tired to try and guess what she was talking about. 

"About Daphne, I'm sorry," Cho continued. 

Draco slammed his book shut. He started to gather his things. 

"Malfoy-" 

"Stop." 

"You should know that she really liked you," Cho stood up, there was a sharp determination in her eyes. 

"Now I know you're just lying," Draco was shoving his books in his bag. He wasn't going to bother to put up the books he had taken out. 

"Malfoy, just wait." Cho stood in his way as he tried to walk towards the exit. 

He tried to push past her, but Quidditch had made Cho strong. She stepped in front of him with her hands on his shoulders. She made him stop. 

"Get off-" 

"What are you doing?" she challenged, itches away from his face. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he snapped. 

"Your girlfriend just died and you're just acting like nothing happened," she pushed. Draco stilled, his anger a hot rod in his chest. He shoved passed her. She let him, but she was right on his heels. "Your girlfriend was just murdered and you're sitting here acting like nothing happened-" 

He turned to her. He towered over her small frame. "I have no idea what you are talking about," he growled in a shaking calmness that was forced. 

"Yes you do," she argued. "You know exactly what I am talking about." 

She was holding him still with her stare. "What do you want?" he growled. 

"I know what it feels like to have someone you love murdered," she sympathized. "If you ever wanted to talk-"

"And what?" he snapped. He wanted to be cruel. "What should I do? What you have done?" He raised his hands out to his sides, "what exactly have you done Cho?" She didn't answer him. "You've done nothing. Nothing but mope around for you poor dead boyfriend while self-flogging yourself for having dared liked another boy." Her jaw clenched. He didn't stop. This was the first time he felt something in weeks. "All you do is punish everyone for moving on while you stay behind. Luckily for you, Cedric died before he could leave behind his girlfriend still in school-" 

He was half expecting the slap across his face. He just didn't know if Cho had it in her. 

Cho was breathing heavily when he turned back to her. She was staring at her hand with wide, tearful eyes. She was more surprise than Draco was that she had hit him. 

"Why are you like this?" she whispered. "I was offering to help you." 

"I don't need help from someone who can't even help themselves," Draco turned away from her.

He hurried out of the library. Cho had thought he was a victim, like her. She had offered him kindness because she had thought they had shared grief. If she knew, if anyone knew, they wouldn't have so much sympathy for him. 

He was a monster. 

His steps echoed on the stones. The echoes could be mistaken for a person walking beside him like she used to. 

He could taste the tears on the back of his tongue. 

He had taken her life. He was her executioner.

Stabbing shame snaked into his stomach. 

Alone. He needed to be alone. 

Down the hall. To the lower floors. 

He could feel his body shake with the contorting he was doing to keep himself from weeping onto the floor. 

He had taken her memories. He was her vandal. 

Ribbons of panic coiled around his chest. 

The empty halls swayed around him. He stumbled to a door. 

He was sure he had stolen her soul, she was his eternal prisoner. 

_"Again," his lord ordered._

_Draco cast the spell, the force of the magic coiling in his diaphragm. The body writhed under his order. Blond hair tangling. Blue eyes fluttered. The corpse lurched upwards. Daphne looked at him, her eyes wide, mouth open. Her head tilted at an unnatural angle. Something in his chest lurched, as if part of his soul was being ripped from his body. He released the spell. The force of cutting the charm snapped his arm back. He slumped to his knees. His body shook as he gasped for air._

_The corpse that used to be Daphne stood. Draco gasped. Her eyes stared at him, piercing into his soul. How dare he bring her back after she had sacrifice her life. Was she now expected to endure eternal darkness in this corpse that used to be what carried her essence? Would he ever stop asking more of her? To keep giving and giving until she was scattered across the world as dust?_

_The vomit washed the taste of blood at of his mouth._

_Do corpses have souls? Did he just command Daphne back from the veil? Did he twist the order of the universe with his wand? His magic? Could magic be used so-_

_"Exhilarating, isn't it?" his Lord tilted his head as he looked down at his pupil._

_Draco froze. "I've never felt anything like it," he told the truth. He had to. He had let his guard down, his Lord at slipped into his mind with ease. He was swimming in dangerous waters._

_The Dark Lord and Draco shared a grin. "Congratulations," his lord complimented him, "you have your first Inferi."_

Draco cast a silencing charm on the door before his panic sobs broke him. His knees buckled, they hit with a bruising force onto the tiled floor. His ribs collapsed into his lungs as he gasped for air. His vision blurred as his spine tightened with his grief. 

He pushed himself against the door, straightening his back against the wood. His cries reverberated back to him in the large empty lavatory. 

He had been holding himself together for so long. He thought he was making himself into ivory, but the reality was he was just adding cracks. His heart was shattering. 

The wood of the door hit the back of his head as Draco slammed himself into the hard door. 

What would he do? What could he do? Every option he had, every corner he turned, was filled with danger that threatened his life. 

Claws ranked down his back and chest as his hands clung to the front of his robes. He was gasping at his chest, needing breath.

His Lord was a known terror. Draco would be killed for just being himself. The path he walked, the very breath he took, was a death sentence. He liked men. If he did carve out a place in the world his Lord was going to build on the blood and bones of those who were too weak, he would forever be breaking himself to force himself into the role that would keep him alive. How much would he cut out of himself in order to fit into a world that he didn't want a part of? 

Dumbledore was so unknown. Draco was sure of one thing, if he agreed to stand alongside Dumbledore, he would be used as a pawn. He would be used. His agency would be stripped from him as he laid bare. How? Would he be sharpened into a blade meant to draw blood? Would he be bruised and dulled into a shield? Would he be just a pawn? A distraction, a sacrifice for whatever greater good Dumbledore decided? Could he allow himself to be? 

He wasn't so brave. 

He was useless. Too cruel to be a hero, but too weak to be a monster. 

Potter would die because of his weakness. He would bleed out in his arms. What was the possibility that Draco would be the one to kill him? 

His face felt swollen from crying. He wrapped his arms around his knees. He was trembling from the force of his panic that was dwindling. 

"What are you doing in my lavatory?" 

Draco's brain wasn't in the space to fully comprehend what he was seeing. 

The ghostly head floated up until a ghostly body floated in front of Draco. He blinked. 

"I said," the ghost's voice was so high pitch for someone who didn't have vocal cords. "What are you-" 

"Doing in your lavatory. I heard you the first time," Draco's voice was raw from his panic cries from earlier. 

"Well, aren't you rude?" the ghost snapped. 

"Please. Please shut up," Draco ran his hands through his hair. 

The ghost looked down at him, her toes an inch from the ground as she floated with ease. She was wearing a Hogwarts uniform. She was about the same age as Alfie, or she looked like she was, anyway. Draco thought back to where he was, what floor he was on. In his need to wrap himself in his terror, he just found the most private room he could. "You're Moaning Myrtle," he concluded. 

She tilted her head as she gazed at him behind large glasses that made her eyes owlish. "And who are you?" 

"Malfoy," Draco introduced himself. 

"Well Malfoy, this is a girl's bathroom," Myrtle pointed her nose high into the air as she floated higher, as if she had so many better things to do than talk to him. 

"Well, it's not like anyone comes in here anyways." Draco was too tired to take offence. He was so tired. Tired of having to watch his back with every turn. Tired of blood clawing at the edge of his robes. Tired of the taste of death in his mouth. 

Myrtle floated so she was next to him. "You're right, no one ever comes in here." Her eyes were that of a child, but her soul was years beyond her looks. 

She didn't say anything for a long time. Draco wiped his nose on his handkerchief. He was still crying. 

"How do you become a ghost?" his voice was small. He was too young to carry the burden of death. 

"I didn't mean to- who would want to stay?" Myrtle asked more to herself than to Draco. "I just…was too scared to leave." 

Draco thought of Daphne. Alone. Scared. Standing before death himself before Draco sliced the life out of her. He had taken away her memories of what she was standing there for. Would she have stayed without those memories? Did Draco steal her life only to also chain her to this world? 

Myrtle kept talking. Maybe she doesn't get to talk to anyone often. Draco couldn't remember the last he had on honest conversation with anyone. "For other ghosts, they had to hang on to something. For me…I just wasn't ready to leave." 

Draco's shame was wet in his chest as his chin continued quivering. He was prepared for the terror that would follow him after he had killed Daphne, as ready as he could be for taking a life, but he hadn't thought of damning Daphne's soul to rest on this world forever. "Could someone cling to their body?" the question was out of his mouth before he could stop. He didn't want to know the answer. 

"I…um…think so," Myrtle answered. 

His sob was painful against his sore ribs. He was a monster. "My friend's funeral was a few weeks ago," he explained, his voice wet. 

"Oh." Myrtle stayed next to him as he continued to cry. Who would she tell anyway? She was forgotten. Shoved away as an impossible inconvenience. She was just as lonely as he was. 

"And I-" His sobs choked him back from spilling his secrets. "I really hurt her before she died. She hated me." He wrapped his arms around himself as he finally had to feel the weight of his grief.

 

O.W.Ls came and passed. Draco couldn’t make himself care about his scores, but his earlier need for distraction paid off. He was getting almost perfect scores in all of his test. He was second in his scores only to Granger. He couldn't make himself care. 

 

No one was talking to him anymore. 

 

He started to play a game. How long could he go without talking to another student? So far, his record was ten days during O.W.Ls. 

 

He missed Daphne. 

 

Severus kept trying to talk to him. Draco just walked away. 

 

His parents hadn’t written him. 

 

Severus tried to bait him by telling him about Potter's dip in his Pensieve. Potter and Severus were no longer continuing Occlumency lessons. 

He didn't care. 

 

Could humans die from loneliness? Could Draco starve himself of affection? 

 

This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. McGonagall at St. Mungo's after taking multiple stunning spells directly into her chest. Umbridge seemed too gleeful at that. Potter had looked at Draco as if this was his fault. So many things were that it didn't matter. 

Draco had to wake up from this. 

 

"Malfoy, wake up. Umbridge wants us," Goyle woke him up in the too late night. 

 

"He has Padfoot!" Potter called after Severus. 

Draco woke up. 

Severus looked towards Draco. Their Lord had Sirius. That's what Potter thought anyway. This was a trap. Potter new this, but he didn't care. He would willingly walk into a trap on the slight chance his godfather was in danger. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco spoke. Everyone turned to him. Draco wrapped himself in his easy act. "It's just rubbish ma'am," he explained to Umbridge. "Obviously," he stepped in front of Potter, who was tied tightly to a chair. "He is just trying to set up a trap." Potter looked up at Draco. Potter shook his head slightly. They haven't talked in weeks, but silently Draco knew what Potter was telling him. 

This might be a trap, but I have to do this. 

Umbridge pushed Draco aside. He swallowed his fear. Potter was going to get himself killed. What could Draco do? Nothing. He was useless. He was a coward. He would kill to save himself, but he would never put himself in danger. He met Severus's gaze, who gave him a warning look before leaving the room. 

Umbridge continued to batter Potter. Who wasn't going to tell her anything. She was wasting her time. Potter was strong. "Perhaps an Unforgivable will loosen your tongue," Umbridge hissed. 

"Professor!" Draco gasped. 

"You can't! It's illegal!" Granger thrashed against Montague's tight grip. 

"What the Minister doesn't know won't hurt him," Umbridge ignored the students. 

All of the Inquisitorial Squad looked towards Draco. He swallowed. What was he to do? How was he the one that had to make these decisions? Bulstrode loosened her grip on the Weaslet. Draco nodded. Goyle practically released Ronald, holding Weasley's wand loosely in obvious viewing. Pansy's hands were shaking as she slipped Lovegood's wand back in her hand. 

She was going to use an Unforgivable on Potter. She was going to torture him into telling her information that didn't exist. Umbridge raised her wand. Draco had his hand on his wand, he would kill her before anything happened to Potter. 

The sound of crying stopped him. Granger started to sob. She covered her face as no tears came. She was lying. 

When Umbridge left with Potter and his shadows, Draco excused himself before things got ugly in Umbridge's office. 

His heart was pounding in his chest. 

What was he going to do? 

Dumbledore's words rang in his ears from the night after Daphne's funeral.

_"What I am curious about Malfoy, is why?"_

_"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco lied._

_"Why kill Ms. Greengrass? To save yourself, or to get closer to Voldemort?"_

_"I don't know," Draco spoke the truth._

_"You are going to need to decide very soon, my boy."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my dudes! 
> 
> Sorry for the late update. With my new job/schedule, I'm going to have to change how much I update to once a month instead of every other week. Hopefully, this will lead to longer chapters. 
> 
> This is my first fandom work, so I am really grateful for any comments! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @CarpeBellum


	19. Chapter 19

Ding. 

The only sound in the small metal elevator was Draco's breathing. Sweat tickled the side of his temple as moisture collected at his hair line. He ran his tongue over his teeth. His mouth was so dry. Nails dug themselves in the back of his neck. 

Ding. 

Merlin, what was he doing here? Potter had his friends. He didn't need Draco. Draco would just be in the way. Potter never needed him. 

Ding. 

He could turn back. Wait in the street like a Muggle for the danger to pass. He would blend right in, dressed in a simple long sleeve black shirt and jeans. Draco could just press the button. Ride the elevator back up. Get out. Leave. Never turn back. 

Ding. 

What if Dobby didn't warn the Order in time? What if Draco was following Potter to his death? Would anyone miss him? Would his parents mourn his death? Would anyone mourn the death of a murderer? Would Daphne forgive him if he died so soon after her sacrifice? 

Ding. 

He pushed for his heart to stop thundering in his chest. He needed a clear head to be useful. What was the point of this, of all of this, if he wasn't useful? 

Ding. 

He was about to step into a war field. He was about to fight his parents. His father, at least. Why else would his father have studies over prophecies? There was so much Draco didn't know. Yet he was walking into a trap. He knew this was a trap. What if someone recognized him?

Ding. 

Impossible. The Changeling Candy he had confiscated from the Weasley twins months ago made the perfect cover. His blond hair was electric pink now. His steal eyes had turned dark. His body and face was dotted with thousands of freckles. He had picked the candies at random.

Ding. 

Now was the time to make up his mind. 

Ding. 

He didn't hesitate to step onto the ninth floor of the Ministry. 

The doors gently closed behind him with a soft ding. The mechanical sound was the only noise as the elevator traveled back to the main floor. Draco stood at the end of the long hall he found himself in.

The walls rippled with pale blue light from the torches lined the long hallway. The Department of Mysteries was tiled by black, smooth bricks. The glassy surface of the walls, floor and ceiling caused the light to constantly shift with fluid movement. 

He turned at movement from his right. His heart in his throat. But nothing. No one was there.

His hands were shaking. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He made himself blink them away. Draco touched the handle of his wand strapped to his thigh. 

His muggle trainers were silent on the floor as he walked through the too long hallway. He was walking directly into a trap set by his father, he should be more careful. Here, standing in the middle of the hall, he was too open. Too vulnerable.

His breathing was the only sound heard as he walked into a large circular area. Tall ceilings with curved walls made the light from the low torches ribbon across the smooth bricks. Draco's heart clenched. This was what the bottom of the well would look like. He was at the bottom.

Draco closed his eyes at the thought. He didn’t have time for panic. He must have a clear mind. Clear waters unmuddied by vulnerability. 

He opened his eyes. Twelve identical black doors surrounded Draco in the circular hall. All tall, black and looming like gods judging him for his crimes. 

None of the doors had a handle. 

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Draco mumbled to himself.

He was useless if he couldn't enter any of the rooms. Worse, he was so open to attack. What would he do. He laid his hand on the smooth wood of the door closest to him. Pushing it, but nothing happened. 

How would his father handle this? His father would have wormed his way into having whatever information he needed. That was out of the question for Draco. 

What would Potter do? 

Shocked yells from behind him made his blood cold. He turned to the distant yells echoing from the only door left ajar. 

Draco hurried across the circular room. He was swimming through light. It still wasn't too late for him to turn back-

The door was smooth and cold against his hand, warning him of the dangers within it. Draco cracked the door open slightly so he could glance into the room.

The room was filled with towering shelves that seemed impossibly high. The room was dark except for globes lined up in perfect alinement on the shelves. The light swirled, contained, trapped in the glass. 

The Hall of Prophecy.

There wasn't a soul in sight, but he could hear voices.

Draco slipped into the large hall. He followed the voices. He slipped passed shelves of gentle light, careful to look over every corner before slipping past like smoke. 

A figure walked pass the row of shelves Draco was in. His heart stopped. He laid his back against the shelf in some pathetic attempt to stay hidden. His heart thundered in his chest. His sweating hand on his wand. His mouth was dry, fear lacing his tongue. What had he been thinking? Assuming if he was just a little bit quieter, a bit more sneaky, he wouldn't get caught? Of course he was caught. He was a child fighting an adult's war. 

He waited for the spells to start. For whatever pain that would come. For the fighting to start. He waited for him to loose. For his identity to be revealed. Torture. Pain. Death. Nothing. 

Nothing happened. 

The figure hadn't noticed him. 

He had gotten lucky. So very lucky, but for how long? 

His knees shook as he made himself follow the voices. He recognized Potter's voice, but he could make out the words. Draco crouched has he moved closer to the group. His back was flat against one of the towering shelves as he hid behind a corner. 

He could make out the words clearly now. Potter was talking. Draco peaked behind the corner, his stomach twisting.

Draco could barely see Potter through the sea of black cloaks. Potter and his friends were circled by Death Eaters. All in dark cloaks and masks in the shape of sculls. Draco's stomach dropped when he saw his father's blond hair. He was still doing their Lord's bidding? His father had been so shaken after…after Draco had killed Daphne. Yet he stood tall, towering in front of Potter. He wasn't leaning on his cane, he must have taken a potion for mobility. 

"Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a muggle- or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?" Potter mocked. Draco could hear Potter's chin sticking out. 

Bellatrix casted a spell at Potter before Draco could even draw his wand.

Lucius easily defected the spell. The sounding of breaking glass sent claws down Draco's back. Everyone raised their wands. Potter held a glowing ball to his chest. 

"Everyone, just calm down," Draco watched has his father raised his hands in a false sign of goodwill. Lucius stepped forward slowly, all while filling Potter's head with lies. 

This was war. Draco would burn the world down before he let something happen to Potter.

"Potter, poor, orphaned Potter. Don't you want answers?" his father spun his lies. 

Six, seven if Draco counted himself-

"Aren't you tired of all the secrets?" 

-against twelve fully trained Death Eaters. 

"Tell me, when was the last time anyone was fully honest with you, boy?" 

They were going to lose. End of discussion.

"That prophecy has all the answers-" 

The question wasn't if they were going to win- 

"-just. Give it to me." 

-the question was how long they could survive. 

Draco held his wand. His mind was surprisingly clear as Potter looked down at the prophecy. He was about to give the order to attack. 

Draco stood from where he had been kneeling. 

"Now!" Potter shouted. 

Bright light shot from the students wands as they simultaneously casted _Reductor_. 

Draco broke into a run towards Potter and his friends. 

Glass fell from the ceiling. Loud moans of the shelves leaning from the force of the spells. Screaming from all sides. White mist floated up to Draco's knees as he ran through the rain of white mist. Death Eaters struggled not to be hit by the falling glass while trying to obtain Potter. 

Draco easily shoved past the group of Death Eater's, all confused. Draco ran as quickly as his body would allow towards a rushing Potter. Potter and his friends were hurrying to an open door way. 

Draco watched as a masked man grabbed Potter's arm. Potter was pulled to a stop. Granger turned as Potter yelled. The Death Eater shoved his fist into Potter's jaw. Potter's head snapped back. 

Draco raised his wand above him, not needing to aim. 

_"Oppugo!"_

Hundreds of globes attacked the Death Eater has Draco slammed the spell as hard as he could into flesh. 

The man instantly released Potter as the glass broke against him. The smell of blood suddenly in the air as the man was forced from his feet, his back hitting the shelves with a twisted snap. Glass broke against the Death Eater as glass globes continued their attack. Blood dripped from the opening of the bone white mask. 

Draco grabbed Potter's hand, pulling Potter behind him as he ran, following behind Granger and Longbottom. 

Towering shelves collapsed around them. Spells missed by inches. Footsteps loud behind them. Screams from seemingly everywhere. 

Draco wouldn't let go of Harry. 

Granger pulled them into a room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind them. 

"Where's everyone else?" Longbottom's voice was panicked. 

Potter yanked his hand from Draco's, Draco turned to a wand in his face. 

"Harry! He's obviously on our side! We don't have time for this we have to hide!" Granger snapped. 

"Who are you?" Potter demanded. 

"Honestly Potter, how many friends do you have? Surely not enough to lose count," Draco mumbled lowly so only Potter could hear. Potter's eyes widened in recognition. 

A loud slam on the door made the four look for a place to hide. The room was brightly lit. Clocks lined every surface of the many tables that lined the room. Parchment littered the remaining spaces. Draco pressed himself against the wall next to the door. He would be hidden behind the door once it was opened. 

Potter and Granger hid under a table filled with floating clocks frozen in time.

There was a bang. The door shook form the hinges. 

The constant ticking of clock hands made Draco sweat.

The next bang was louder. 

If Draco grabbed Potter, maybe they could make it to the door across the room- 

The door was shoved open with a spell. Draco caught the door before it broke his nose. 

"You sure those shits came in here?" Draco recognized Crabb's father's voice. 

Draco slammed the door shut, his spell already stunning Crabb into unconsciousness when he turned around. 

Crabb fell into the table Granger and Potter had been hiding under. Granger scampered away as the table hit the floor. 

Draco's wand flew from his hand has Rabastan focused on him. 

_"Ava-"_

Draco froze.

Rabastan was tackled to the ground before he could kill Draco. Potter was rolled onto his back by the larger man. Yells vibrated against the walls. 

Draco dived for his wand. Two wands flew in the air as Longbottom disarmed both of Potter and Rabastan. Potter didn't hesitate to swing a punch into the Death Eater's face with a sickening crack as the two stood. 

_"Stupefy!"_ Granger yelled. Rabastan stumbled backwards. His head hit a jar on the table behind him, the glass cracking. 

Draco froze as his stomach curled at the sight. Rabastan's head shrunken into an infants, before re-growing then aging into a seniors. 

"Oh my god," Granger gasped. The head turned into a baby's then to an old man's. Again and again. Constantly shifting from smooth to wrinkled. Constantly shifting from crying to yelling in pain.

Draco was pulled to his feet. Potter's hands pulled him up with almost bruising force. "Let's get out of here!" Potter ordered. 

Potter's hand was tight around his as he lead them into a small office off of the original room. Draco stood closely behind Potter. The sounds of Rabastan's screams ringing in his ears. With the hand that wasn't in Potter's, Draco clutched the back of Potter's shirt. Like he never did with his mother's skirts, vulnerable. He just needed for his hands to stop shaking. How was everyone so calm? 

The constant clicking of clocks quieted as they entered the office. Rabastan's screams became almost distant. 

The office had two desks on either side. A door was across from the entrance the group just entered. Parchments littered the desks, spilling onto the floor. Draco stumbled into Potter, who was frozen where he stood, before he hit the floor. 

Longbottom and Granger were next. All hitting the floor, stiff as wood. 

Draco dived onto the floor as a spell flew over him. He put up a shield charm as he hit the ground. His shoulder shook with the force of the next spell that hit his shield. 

He looked around the room. Catching only glances of two dark figures before more spells were thrown at him with shaking force. 

The other three were frozen under a jinx on the floor. Forgotten. Two Death Eaters now circled Draco, who was only able to rise to his knees with the force of the blows thrown at him. 

"He's here-!"

" _Silencio!_ " Draco cast at the Death Eater on his right that he recognized as Dolohov. He turned to his left, " _Pertrificus Tatalus!_ " The Death Eater on his left hit the floor, frozen. Draco stood as he pulled up his shield. A whip of purple flame sliced through the air from Dolohov's wand.

Draco stumbled backwards from the force of the spell that slammed into his shield. His head hit the brick floor as he tripped over the Death Eater he put in a body bind. His feet tangled together over the frozen body. The whip of purple flame flew towards Draco. He rolled to the side. The flames licked Draco's ear. The smell of burning skin in the air. 

The whip circled around the air, reeling back before lashing at Draco for a second time. Draco rolled out of the way again. Pain screamed across his arm as he barely escaped the fire. 

A spell was shouted. Granger stood, the spell had worn off on her. Draco struggled to his knees. His head pounding from the back of his head. Every spell shouted sent needles into Draco's ears.

Dolohov looped the spell high into the air, he threw the spell to Ganger. The spell hit her right in the chest. Her feet left the ground as she was thrown across the room against the wall. Draco heard the breath leave her body with the force of the throw. She slumped to the ground. Blood dripped into her hair. 

Draco silently stood. His head begged for him to stop. His ear burned, smelling of burnt flesh and charred hair. His shoulder aching, his arm blistering and bleeding from the gash down his bicep. 

He turned to Dolohov, whose back was to him as he stood over an unconscious Longbottom. Longbottom was stunned on the floor. Blood was down his chin from his horribly bent nose. His wand in two on the floor under Dolohov's foot.

Dolohov's hand was on Potter's collar. Potter thrashed against the hand at his throat, his eyelids fluttering from lack of air.

Fire blossomed in Draco's gut. His heart pounded in his chest. Claws of hot fury ran down his back as his wand lengthened into a whip of fire.

Dolohov didn't even have the chance to turn around before he was slashed across the back by flames. Potter was released as Dolohov was slammed into the wall face first. He slumped onto the floor, a pool of blood forming. His arm twisted at an unnatural angle that made Draco want to smile.

" _Rennervate_ ," Draco casted at Longbottom. Longbottom blinked awake. He gently sat up, he was guided by Potter's gentle hand. 

Draco casted a spell for burns on his arm, but to no avail. He wasn't expecting simple healing spells to work on whatever dark magic Dolohov had wielded. 

Granger was unconscious. He gently looked through her coiled hair at the trauma to her skull. Concussion. Best if they didn't move her, but what choice did they have?

"We'll have to carry her," Longbottom stood over them. Draco nodded, he couldn't speak. What if Longbottom recognized his voice? 

The pair pulled Granger by her shoulders to drape her arms over their shoulders. They arranged her to where she was carried between him and Longbottom before they stood. Granger's arms arranged across their shoulders. Their hands under each of her knees. Her head sloped onto Draco's shoulder. The smell of blood in his nose. The ribbons of crimson dripping down his shoulder. 

Potter nodded at them before leading the way. His wand raised cautiously as he walked out of the only other exit of the small office off of the time corridor. 

Draco blinked as they stepped into the circular hallway with the twelve doors. 

Draco's heart pounded in warning. They were too exposed here. Potter was the only one who could use his wand fully. They had to get out. Now. 

Potter stood in the middle of the circular room. His eyes wide as he glanced at the doors. The wrong one could be their death. The glass globe, still in his hand, was glowing. He was holding his destiny. 

"Just pick one Harry," Longbottom whispered. His voice seemed to reverberate up to the ceiling against the smooth bricks. 

Potter blinked, out of whatever trance he dazed into, before he went around pulling at doors. He yanked one open before they hurried in. Their footsteps soft, but their hearts pounding. 

The blue light of the circular hall disappeared into an artificial yellow light. Tanks filled the room. Yellow lights lit the room from within the tanks. Movement in the tanks made the shadows move and swarm. His spine tightened as he couldn't tell where physical met shadows. 

Draco reached out to Potter as he heard someone speak. "Ron!" Potter turned the corner of a large tank. Draco's heart burst from his chest as Potter rushed out of his sight. "Careless moron," Draco mumbled under his breath, his hands too full of Granger to pull his wand out. 

Draco and Longbottom turned the corner only to be met by the rest of Potter's group.

The Weaslet was leaning heavily on Lovegood. Her ankle at an unnatural angle, her face pale. Ron was holding Lovegood's hand, looking dazed and mumbling as he looked around the large room. 

"We have what we need, let's make a break for it," Weaslet ordered. 

Longbottom scooped Granger out of Draco's arms. "Go help Ginny," he was ordered. 

Draco walked to the Weaslet, who was leaning heavily on Lovegood. "Here, let me," he whispered to keep his voice unrecognizable. 

"I don't need your help," Weaslet snapped. 

Good to know she was unpleasant to everyone. 

"Don't be stubborn, we don't have time," Draco hissed lowly. Draco took her arm over his shoulders, she leaned heavily onto him, off of her twisted, or broken, ankle. 

Potter lead his group. His wand raised. His hand unshaken. 

Longbottom was next, Granger in his arms. Lovegood followed with a tight grip on Weasley. Draco and the Weaslet were last. 

The battered group returned to the circular hall. Their breaths the only sounds against the smooth bricks. Potter was half way across the circular room. They were going to get out. 

The blast echoed across the room. Reverberating in his bones. Shouts from everyone pierced his ears. 

Draco shoved Weaslet into the room. He threw up a shield charm as wide as he could. 

Lovegood rushed passed him. She yanked Weasley into the room behind her. 

Shrills of Bellatrix's laughter clawed at Draco's ears. 

Longbottom stumbled into the room. Granger heavy in his arms, deathly still. 

Death Eaters swarm into the room. Shadows circling children. 

Potter, were was Potter? 

Potter was standing firm. His wand raised, spells flying as he protected his friends. 

Draco founded Potter's hand. He shoved Potter into the room, throwing up spells in any direction to hit something, anything. 

Potter slammed the door behind Draco as he ran in. The door clicked as it locked. A large desk loudly skirting across the room to rest in the front of the door. 

Lovegood and Potter started on the barricade. Draco ordered the others to hide. They only had seconds. 

The barricade turned into dust under a blasting spell. 

Draco didn't have the chance to defend himself before he was thrown across the room. He landed on a desk full of vials and parchment, the table falling onto its side, Draco hitting the floor as the table tilted. His head pounded only harder. He blinked. Spells of all different sorts flew in the air. 

Draco struggled to peak over the sideways table. Granger laid unconscious. Weaslet and Longbottom standing above her. Spells coming out from their wands, but so many surrounded them.

Weasley had summoned whatever was in the tank into his hands. A brain was now slicing into his flesh with thoughts. Blood pouring out of the gaping wounds. 

Potter, where was Potter? 

He was near a doorway. Death Eaters swarmed around him. His eyes wide at the terror for his friends. 

Draco ran to Potter, stunning Death Eaters as they focused on Potter. Draco grabbed Potter's hand, yanking him out the doorway. Draco turned, Death Eaters swarming to the exit where they stood. 

They could all go to hell.

Draco pointed his wand at the tank closest to the door. Potter cast a shield charm to protect them while Draco yelled, " _Finestra!_ " 

The tanks shattered. Screams of pain echoed the chambers as thoughts sliced into flesh. The clear water spilling onto the floor turning red. 

Potter didn't let go of his hand as they ran. Their footsteps impossibly loud on the stones. 

Draco's lungs protested. His ribs stitched together tightly. His legs tightened. His head pounded. The rooms a blur as they just ran and ran. Potter's hand tight in his. 

Potter pushed open a random door. Draco shut the door behind them. Their backs against the smooth wood. Their breaths loud. 

The light in the large room was dim, but gentle. Draco's body was tense, waiting for another attack. Nothing. They hadn't been followed. As Draco steadied his breathing, he turned at the sounds of whispers, his wand raised. Potter jumped next to him, his wand raise as well. 

But the whispers were everywhere. They were swimming in tiny voices, just barely too quiet make out words. 

"Do you-" Potter blinked at how big, how solid, his voice sounded in this chamber. 

Draco nodded, but couldn't defile the sea of voices with his words. 

He took Potter's hand. 

The pair looked for an exit. 

The chamber was rounded, larger than the hall with the twelve doors. However, the walls weren't smooth dark brick, but rugged rock. The room raised towards the middle, sloping to the outer edges, like a lonely island. In the middle of the room, at the height, a high archway stood empty. 

The arch watched them. Draco knew that whatever old magic was seeped into these walls, he did not want a part of. 

They kept close to the wall. They walked around the room, looking for a way out. The whispers caressing their skin. 

Potter's hand was still in his. 

Draco's knees snapped out from underneath him. His screams ripped themselves from his throat. He writhed in white hot pain. 

Bellatrix's laugh stabbed his ears. 

His back arched as his spine was blistering under the molten heat that poured into his skin. 

"Aren't you going to help your little boyfriend, little bitty Potter?" Bellatrix's words scarred themselves into Draco. 

His gut was twisting in his stomach, coiling tightly. His bones turned into hot pokers that melted his muscles. His skin peeled away.

"Let him go!" Draco had never heard Potter so angry. 

His mind was being torn in two from the pain. His skull was shattered, his brain cracking.

"The globe Potter." His father was always cold. 

His nails were pulled from his body. His ears were pulsing from the pressure. His skin had millions of needles and thousands of bugs crawling across him. 

"You're going to kill him!" Potter sobbed. 

His lungs turned into water. He was drowning. He was on fire. He was freezing. 

"He's not going to last much longer. Give. Us. The globe." 

He was being impaled yet turning into smoke. He was on fire yet so cold. He wanted to vomit yet his throat had turned into ash. He was drowning in his own screams. 

He blinked.

His mind was static. His head was under water. 

There were so many lights. Spells flew across the hall. Yells echoed in the chamber. 

Potter, where was Potter? 

Bellatrix had released the spell. She was battling a figure Draco couldn't focus on. 

Where was he? 

Potter was kicking at the legs of Dolohov, who had him in around the neck. The globe forgotten on the floor, rolling towards Draco. 

Spells flew above Draco on the cold stone floor. Yells violent as duels went on. Draco laid forgotten.

The globe was smooth in his hand, heavier than he expected. His legs unsteady as he shoved himself up onto his feet. 

Draco raised the globe in both hands above his head. Potter's eyes widen at him as Draco stood behind Dolohov. 

The feeling of glass against skull reverberated up Draco's arms. The Dolohov snapped under the force of the globe. Glass cut into his hands as the prophecy was broken. 

Potter was pulling Draco by the hand through the crowd of dueling wizards. Draco recognized Sirius battling Bellatrix. His smile cheerfully chilling in the midst of violence. 

His hands were bleeding. Blood spilling into his and Potter's clasped hands, but Potter didn't let go of him. Draco shoved Potter out of the way of a spell. Their bodies hitting the ground, only to be yanked up again by a furious woman with pink hair. 

"Fucking get out of here!" she shoved them to the exit. 

Draco took the lead. He sprinted to the exit. Potter right on his heels. The Order was keeping the Death Eaters too busy to grab them. They had a clean shot to the doorway. 

Potter's hand in his. They would make it out of here. They would live. Just a few more feet- 

Potter's hand left his. 

Draco turned. His father had Potter by the hair. He was growling into his face, threatening him, his gaze deadly. 

His father screams were louder than anything else in the room. Lucius hit the grown, cradling his broken knee that Draco had kicked out from underneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> I hoped you liked it! This is a bit different than my usual style. I would love to hear from y'all! Just a heads up, the next chapter is the last one for this story, but not the last in the series. 
> 
> Follow me @carpebellum on tumblr


	20. Chapter 20

Do the stars look down on us with more than fascination? If he was a star, if he was destined to look down on earth for eternity, what would make him turn away? The wars? The deaths? The casual cruelty that one could do onto another? Would he turn away from watching children grow up before they should? 

He wasn't destined to look down on earth, he wasn't even destined to look up to the stars. He was only meant to keep his gaze here on the ground. 

Draco turned away from the moonless night sky. He leaned his back against the railing that hugged the edge of the tower. Potter would be here soon. Draco had come early, he wanted to time to think. He needed the time alone before the entered the battle field. 

He would be returning to the manor soon. He would return to an angry lord in light of his father's failure. Would he be killed to pay for his father's mistakes? Would he be tortured? The Dark Lord did favor Draco, slightly, there was a slimmer of something similar to hope. 

There had barely been a moment to himself since that fateful night a only a couple of days ago. Those days had dragged on like years. 

_Draco dropped to his knees onto the cool stone bricks of Hogwarts. His muscles sore. His head tight, his hands and shoulder bleeding. His ear burning with the heat that was no longer there._

_Potter was kneeling beside him in an instant. His eyes wide with worry. His hands warm on Draco's neck as he investigated the injuries._

_"You look tired," Draco whispered._

_"You don't look much better yourself," Potter joked, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Draco cupped Potter's face, his hands dark in blood, Potter's eyes were his. Draco wasn't looking into Potter's face and seeing the devil like he had when his Lord had finally taken over his mind._

_Draco had held Potter then, as he writhed in pain in a battle that only he was a part of, Draco had clung to Potter as if his touch could melt away evil. As if Draco himself wasn't something twisted and dark. Draco had watched has Potter's face had looked at him with the Dark Lord's eyes. So much hate in those eyes._

_He was gone now. Now there was only Potter. Potter kneeling beside him as worry was on his face. Worry for Draco._

_Draco didn't have to make himself smile. They had won. This time, this battle, they had won._

_"I'm afraid now is not the moment for tenderness, boys," Dumbledore gently spoke._

Dumbledore had casted a strong glamor over Draco while Madam Pomphrey cared for him. She had looked at him with such kind pity as she tended to him. How many children of war would she have to care for before this was done? 

Draco was hurried back to his room as soon as he wasn't actively bleeding. Potter had begged Dumbledore to let him stay in the infirmary. Draco had explained that this was for the best. No one would expect him of treachery if there wasn't anything to suspect.

No one would suspect him now. 

Not with his father a known Death Eater locked away in Azkaban. No, everyone avoided Draco like the plague. Theo and Crabbe's fathers were also arrested. Crabbe's mother had taken him out of school that morning.

What would happen to Theo? His father arrested, his mother dead. He had no living relatives. Perhaps this could be his chance out. Maybe he could leave his world, get out of it while he still could. Draco hoped that for him. 

Hope never got him anywhere. 

"Draco." 

He looked up, an easy smile on his face at the sound of Potter's voice. "Hey," he greeted. 

Potter wrapped him into a warm hug. Draco finally gave into the want to hug him back. 

_As soon as Draco had snapped his father's knee, Bellatrix had stunned Sirius. Her shrieks of joy made Potter turn around, he watched as Sirius slowly fell backwards-_

_Potter broke into a run to save his godfather._

_Draco was right behind him._

_The world around him blurred as Potter was rushing into the center of the danger. All he could focus on was Potter. Potter, who was running towards the veil. Potter, who was stepping in front of Bellatrix's wand. Potter, who held Draco's heart but didn't know it yet._

_Potter was reaching out for Sirius as he fell into the veil, as if he could pull someone he loved out of Death's very grasped._

_Draco had tackled Potter to the floor before he could._

_Potter had kicked at his legs, had continued to reach out, almost touching the curtain between life and death before Draco had yanked him back with fear gripping his heart._

_"He's gone," he had whispered into Potter's ear as Potter had screamed and sobbed. His grief bleeding out of him and into Draco. Potter had fought against him, elbowing his ribs, kicking his shins, but Draco had kept his grip tight and sure. He wasn't going to let him go._

Draco let himself hold Potter. He was so angry at Bellatrix when she slipped away after Dumbledore entered the battle. So angry that he followed her, almost killed her in his grief. Draco had known this was a trap, that getting Potter separated was the plan all along, but Draco had followed anyway. 

Wherever Potter went, he was meant to follow. 

"I've missed you," Potter whispered into his ear. 

'I'm going to miss you,' Draco wouldn't let himself say. 

"It’s for the best," Draco let him go.

Potter's eyes had deep circles under them. His checks were dry from crying. There was a set in his jaw now, of someone who lost someone dear. True, Potter lost his parents, but they had left a hole. A hole that had always been there, in Potter. Sirius had torn something in his soul. 

"How…" Draco paused, not sure how to ask, "how are you?" 

Potter sighed as he leaned against the railing. He looked up at the clear night sky. His elbows resting on either side of him. He looked so casual, so easy in his grief. Draco knew something would boil against Potter's skin soon. Boil out and blister and burn him until his chest ached for relief. Draco's did. "I'm tired," Potter didn't look at him. "I'm tired of so much, I'm tired of losing people. I'm tired of being angry all the time. I'm tired of walking around eggshells with my friends. I'm so sick of people dying for me, I never wanted anyone to die for me." 

Draco rested his elbows on the railing as he leaned forward. Everything looked so small from here. This was a moment of odd peace he never got from flying on a boom, so much movement, so lonely. Here, in this tower, he was with Potter. "I'm tired too," Draco whispered when Potter was done talking, "I'm sorry about you godfather, he seemed like a good man." 

"I'm sorry about Daphne," he wasn't looking up anymore. 

"Me too," Draco agreed. Potter stilled next to him. Draco glanced over his shoulder, Potter was swallowing past his tears that had begun to corner in his eyes. So much grief weighing on such frail shoulders. "It wasn't your fault," Draco comforted. "Daphne, she knew what she was doing. She knew of the dangers." 

"I know, I know that, we talked a few times, but-" 

"But nothing. She had so many people warning her. She knew of the price she would pay if…" 

Potter glared at him. "If what? If we got caught? Why was it that she was murdered while the rest of us had to write lines?" 

Murdered. 

Draco looked down when Potter snapped that words towards him. 

Murdered. 

Potter couldn't never find out who killed Daphne, who sliced her throat. Who squeezed the life from her like a snake. 

Murder. 

That title fit Draco so well. 

The gentle hand on his shoulder made him flinch. "I'm sorry," Potter apologized. "She was your friend, I shouldn't be so insensitive. I know you don’t like to talk about her." 

If only Potter knew why Draco avoided that conversation. "You don’t need to apologize. You're angry, that's all. And you have every right to be." 

"I still shouldn't take it out on you," Potter insisted. 

Draco smiled. "None of this is fair, Potter. Don’t beat yourself up about wanting to change that." 

Potter gave him a smile with sad eyes. "Draco…." he paused. 

"Yes?" 

Potter stared at him. His eyes flickering in the low torch light. "Thank you, for what you did for me." 

Warmth blossomed in Draco's chest. He felt almost lighter. "It was a honor," Draco spoke the truth. He didn’t have to lie about this, not with Potter. He was always his favorite version of himself with Potter. 

"I'm…I'm sorry about your dad." 

Draco looked down at his hands. How could he put what he felt for his father, his own actions, into words? Lucius had been arrested, with the care he would receive in Azkaban for his knee, Draco wouldn't be surprised if his father was permanently disabled. He had done that. He had no regrets, or did he? "I'm sorry about him too," Draco settled. No words would ever explain his feelings for his father. 

"Are you… what are you going to do now?" Potter asked quietly beside him. 

"I'm going to go back," Draco told him. 

Potter's eyes widened, his lips tightened. He was so scared to loose someone else. "You don't have to," Potter's voice quivered. 

"Potter-" 

"We could hide you, Dumbledore could protect you. Have you told him? He'll help you, Draco. I know he will." Potter had taken both of Draco hands in his. 

"I've…" How could Draco break what was between Dumbledore and Potter? How could he let himself do that to Potter? 

"Please," Potter's voice broke, "let him help you, Draco." 

Tell him. Tell him of Dumbledore's true nature. He never offered Draco salvation. No, but they had made a deal. A deal with the devil. 

"My mother," Draco lied. "I have to protect her." 

Potter wrapped his arms around Draco. His head buried his head into Draco's neck. 

Potter's back was warm underneath Draco's hands. He was shaking, trying to bottle his fear as Draco soothed him the best he could. "Just promise me you'll be careful," Potter whispered into his neck. 

"I promise." 

Potter cared for him. He hurt for him. What did Draco do to deserve this tender compassion? He was dark, and twisted, he hurt people. Potter could never know what Draco has done, what he would do. Potter could never find out how much of a monster Draco really was. 

A gentle hand on his check brought Draco out of those thoughts. 

Potter was looking at him. An intensity in the gaze made Draco aware of just how close Potter was. How Draco hands were on his back. 

Draco's heart pounded in his chest. Warmth pooled in his heart. Potter's hand was warm, sure, on the small of his back as Draco was pulled closer to Potter. 

Their chests were touching. Draco was sure Potter could feel his heartbeat. Potter's thumb gently stroked Draco's cheek. 

He could feel breath on his lips. Draco watched as Potter's gaze fell onto his mouth before meeting his eyes again. The hand on his check moved to the back of his neck. Draco swallowed, his couldn't move. He didn’t want this to stop. 

"Potter," he warned. 

Potter's lips were soft against his. He was so warm against Draco. 

Draco froze, his eyes closed. His mind blanked as Potter's lips stayed against his. 

The lips against his disappeared, his eyes opened to be met with Potter's deep green eyes behind glasses that flickered the reflection of the torches. 

"I had to do that, before… whatever happens next." Draco could feel Potter's words on his lips. "Draco I-" Potter looked surprised at what he was about to say, as if just realizing his words now. "I lo-" 

Draco pulled him into another kiss before he could say those words. Those words would make everything so complicated, but so very wonderful. Potter melted against him, pulling him in even closer, lacing his hand in Draco's hair. Shivers slipped down Draco spine. 

He hadn’t know that he could feel like this. Potter's lips moved against his. Draco hesitantly followed. He wanted this, he wanted more. He never understood why everyone was so focused on this. Here, with Potter's mouth on his, everything made sense. He couldn't stop if he wanted to. 

He was falling and flying at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is it for this story. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who left comments and kudos to let me know how much they cared about this story, that is always super encouraging.
> 
> The next story for this series will be out in January. 
> 
> If you wanted to say hi, I'm on tumblr @CarpeBellum


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